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IN  CONVERSATION  WITH  KAID 
LHARBI 

The  scene  is  a  room'  in  the  ''palace" 
assigned  us  as  temporary  residence  by  His 
Holiness,  the  Shareef  of  Wazzan,  in  the 
Sacred  City  of  i\^azzan.  The  conversation 
is  in  Spanish — halting  Spanish  on  the  part 
of  both  the  Moorish  soldier  and  the  Ameri- 
can traveler.  The  subject  discussed  is  the 
relative  breadth  of  the  territory  of  the 
Empire  of  Morocco  and  that  of  the  United 
States.  The  Moor  maintains  that  his  coun- 
try is  ten  times  broader  than  the  United 
States  because  it  takes  forty  days  to  traverse 
it — by  caravan! 


aiA3  HTIW  M0ITA8^aVM03  KI 
la^AHJ 

'^33£l£q^*  odi  ni  "mooi  b  ai  snaoa  srIT 
siH  YcT  aonabigai  xi-sioqjnnsl  as  au  bsngiaaB 
ddi  ni  ^n^ss^V/  io  iaaiBrlS  edi  ^aaariiloH 
nohBa'iavnoD  silT  .n^ss^Vi  ^o  xi'O  baiDBS 
iiBq  siil  no  dainaqS  §nbl£3 — ifainBqS  ni  ai 
-hamA  arfi  bnB  isibloa  ilahooM  sifi  jrilod  io 
ddi  ai  bsaauDaib  :Jo3[djja  sifT  .labvBil  n&o 
edi  lo  xioihi^i  sdi  \o  dibLsid  evliEhi 
hsi'iaU  edi  \o  i&di  bus  odooioM  \o  siiqma 
-nuoD  eirl  isdi  aniBlniBm  loolA  odT  .zdi&iS 
b9:tinU  aiil  nBifJ  labBoid  asmil  asi  ai  "^J 
saisvBiJ  oJ  a^Bb  \ii6i  zsA&i  ii.  ezuEoed  a9iB:t8 

InBVBiBD  xd — ii 


BuKCm  HoLM^ 

^*^^ ■■!■!      ^. 


mAor 


VOLUME  ONE 


1919 

The  Tr^vIelogue  BungAu 

CaHCAGO  NEW  YORK 


Copyright,  1908,  by  E.  Burton  Holmes 
Copyright,  1914,  by  E.  Burton  Holmes 
Copyright,  1917,  by  E.  Burton  Holmes 
Copyright,  1919,  by  E.  Burton  Holmes 
All  rights  reserved 


St  0  ,4- 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTE 

Mr.  Holmes  has  been  asked  to  supply  data  for  a  biographical  sketch. 
He  replies  that  his  biography  will  be  found  in  his  Travelogues,  each  being 
a  chapter  from  his  life  of  travel. 

Elias  Burton  Holmes  was  born  in  January,  1870,  in  Chicago.  In  1883 
he  became  interested  in  photography,  devoting  much  time  to  picture- 
making  in  the  course  of  his  earlier  travels  in  the  United  States,  Cuba,  and 
Mexico.  In  1886  he  made  his  first  European  tour.  In  1890  a  second  and 
longer  tour  of  England  and  the  Continent  gave  him  the  material  for  his 
first  lecture,  "Through  Europe  with  a  Camera,"  which  he  presented,  as  an 
amateur,  before  the  members  of  the  Chicago  Camera  Club.  In  1893  he 
made  his  first  professional  appearance,  presenting  "Japan — The  Country," 
and  "Japan — The  Cities,"  at  the  Recital  Hall  of  the  Aviditorium,  Chicago, 
then  introducing  illustrations  all  in  color  for  the  first  time  in  connection 
with  travel  lectures. 

During  the  five  following  years  the  Burton  Holmes  lectures  won  in- 
creasing recognition  in  the  cities  of  the  Middle  West.  In  1897-98  Mr. 
Holmes  established  courses  in  the  larger  Eastern  cities,  then  introducing 
Motion  Pictures  for  the  first  time.  In  1904  he  appeared  in  England, 
lecturing  on  American  scenic  subjects  at  Queen's  Hall,  in  London,  then 
using  the  word  '"Travelogues"  to  describe  his  entertainments.  He  now 
appears  annually  in  New  York,  Brooklyn,  Boston,  Philadelphia,  Washing- 
ton. Pittsburgh,  Chicago,  Milwaukee,  Saint  Louis,  and  San  Francisco, 
giving  from  ten  to  twenty  performances  in  each  city,  presenting  five  new 
subjects  every  season. 

In  spite  of  the  increasing  demands  upon  his  time  for  platform  work, 
Mr.  Holmes  continues  to  devote  from  five  to  eight  months  of  the  year  to 
travel  and  the  preparation  of  his  Travelogues. 


€2y- 


TO 

MY 

THREE 


FOREWORD 

"7(9   Travel  is  to  Possess  the  World" 

In  the  foreword  to  the  First  Edition  of  the  Travelogues  I  took  occasion 
to  express  my  gratitude  to  the  lecture-going  public  who.  by  their  generous 
support  given  to  the  platform  presentations  of  the  Travelogues,  made 
possible  for  me  the  journeys  described  in  these  ten  volumes.  I  have  now 
a  new  public  to  thank — the  reading  public — and.  to  my  readers  I  wish 
now  to  express  my  sincere  gratitude  for  the  favor  with  which  they  have 
received  the  Travelogues  as  they  appear  between  the  covers  of  these 
books. 

It  is  difficult  for  one  who,  for  nearly  twenty  years,  has  been  traveling 
as  a  "deputy  sightseer"  for  so  many  auditors  and  readers,  not  to  feel 
that  throughout  all  these  long,  busy,  interesting  years,  he  has  had  the 
best  of  the  bargain.  But  I  am  encouraged  to  believe  that  the  return  I 
bring  is  fair  and  just  exchange  for  the  wander-privilege  that  I  enjoy, 
and  to  believe  as  well,  that  not  a  little  of  the  pleasure  that  I  find  in  travel 
is  shared  by  those  for  whom  and  by  whose  favor  I  travel  and  thereby 
"possess  the  world."  I  ask  nothing  better  than  to  be  permitted  to  continue 
the  work  which,  begun  as  a  labor  of  love,  has  now  become  both  a  vocation 
and  an  avocation. 

I  wish  again  to  acknowledge  the  del)t  of  gratitude  I  owe  to  my  fellow- 
workers,  whose  efforts  have  contributed  in  so  large  a  measure  to  the 
success  of  the  Travelogues :  To  Katherine  Gordon  Breed,  who  was  the 
first  to  realize  the  possibilities  of  the  art  of  coloring  lantern  slides ;  to 
Helen  E.  Stevenson,  to  whose  exquisite  skill  and  artistic  discrimination 
are  due  the  color-beauty  and  the  convincing  truthfulness  of  the  illustra- 
tions of  all  the  later  Travelogues ;  to  Oscar  Bennett  Depue,  who,  since 
our  first  lecture,  in  1890,  has  operated  the  projecting  instruments  with 
imfailing  accurac}-  and  skill — who  since  the  introduction  of  ^vlolion 
Pictures,  in  1897,  has  devoted  himself  to  the  perfecting  of  the  art  of 
Cinematography,  and  who  has  been  for  many  years  and  in  many  lands 
the  ever  helpful  comiianion  of  my  tra\els,  and  to  Louis  Francis  Brown, 
who,  with  business  aljility  and  tact,  has  directed  the  public  presentations 
of  the  Travelogues.  E.  Burton  Holmes. 

Honolulu,  March  4,   1908. 


INTO  MOROCCO 


J^,.lfm*,  'f^"^il 


,^k  ^'^t  !r^''  ''!S?L.'.. 


NTO 


MOROCCO 


THE  transatlantic  steamers,  that 
every  season  bear  so  many  of  our 
fellow-countrymen  from  our  own  shores 
directly  to  the  ports  of  Italy,  pass,  as  all 
travelers  know,  through  the  Gibraltar 
Straits.  Those  who  have  sailed  this 
course  undoubtedly  recall  with  a  thrill 
of  pleasure  the  morning  when,  after 
eight  days  upon  the  broad  Atlantic, 
they  waked  to  find  on  either  hand 
the  shores  of  a  great  continent,  —  the 
hills  of  Spain  upon  the  north,  and  op- 
posite, the  grim  forbidding  mountains 
of  Morocco. 

They    will    recall,     as    well,     those 

two  gigantic  rocky  promontories  which 

guard  the  western    entrance  to  the   Mediterranean,  —  those 

historic    Pillars    of    Hercules    called    by   the    ancients    Calpe 


GIBRALTAR 


14  INTO  MOROCCO 

and  Abyla, —  the  rocks  that  for  the  men  of  that  time  marked 
the  extreme   western   boundary   of  the   known   world. 

For  centuries  Calpe  and  Abyla,  sea-girt  mountains  torn 
asunder  by  some  god  of  might,  were  looked  upon  as  the  very 
ends  of   the  earth.       Beyond    them  no  man  dared  venture. 

Calpe  is  now  the  famous    fortress  of   Gibraltar,    a   bit  of 
Spain  held  by  the  British  Empire.      Abyla,  upon  the  shore  of 
Africa,  is  now  the  penal  colony  Ceuta,  a  piece 
of    Moorish    territory,    con- 
quered and  held  by  force  of 
Spanish  a  r  m  s  .     At 
the    bases    of    these 
two  mighty  cliffs  the 
waters  of  two  oceans 
mingle  ;   for  there  the  wide 
Atlantic,    the    waterway    of 
the  new  world,  touches  the  historic  inland  ocean,  around  the 
shores  of  which  are  grouped  the  nations  that  have  ruled  the 
world  in  ages  past.     The  narrow  channel  that  links  the  seas 
together  serves  also  to  separate  two  lands  so  widely  dissimilar 
that  nowhere  in  the  world  may  the  traveler,  with  so  little 
effort,  enjoy  a  greater  shock  of  contrast  than  by  crossing  the 
Gibraltar  Strait  from  Southern  Spain  to  Tangier,  in  Morocco. 

In  the  space  of  a  few  short  hours  he  may  there  go  back  a 
thousand  years  ;  pass  from  to-day  to  a  mysterious  yesterday, 
strangely  remote  from  us  in  life  and  thought.  Within  sight 
of  the  shores  of  Europe,  within  sight  of  the  Spanish  railway 
stations,  within  sound  of  the  cannon  of  Gibraltar,  he  will 
find  a  land  in  which  there  are  no  roads  of  any  sort,  a  people 
who  still  use  in  war  the  picturesque  Arabian  flintlock  and 
the  clumsy  yataghan  ;  he  will  find  a  remnant  of  the  Middle 
Ages,  so  perfectly  preserved  by  the  peculiar  embalming  influ- 
ence of  the  Mohammedan  religion  that  the  Morocco  of  to- 
day differs  little  from  the  Morocco  of  the  year  one  thousand. 


CAPE  SPARTEL  LIGHT 


INTO    MOROCCO 


17 


One  of  the  most  keenly  relished  moments  of  my  life  was 
the  moment  when  that  tiny  patch  of  white,  at  first  so  like  a 
drift  of  snow  on  the  distant  Moorish  hills,  finally  resolved 
itself  into  a  city  of  strange  African  aspect,  and  our  ship 
dropped  anchor  in  what  the  Moors  are  pleased  to  call  the 
harbor  of  Tangier.  At  last  we  are  about  to  touch  the  shore 
of  the  strangest,  most  inaccessible,  and  most  mysterious  land 


A    CITY   LIKE    A    DRIFT   OF   SNOW 


that  borders  on  the  Mediterranean.  Algeria  and  Tunis  have 
been  modernized  by  France  ;  railways  transport  pilgrims  to 
and  from  the  Holy  Sepulcher  in  Palestine  ;  Egypt  is  but  an 
Anglo-Saxon  playground  ;  Greece  also  has  her  roads  of  steel, 
her  daily  papers,  and  her  parliament.  But  Morocco  remains 
unique.  Isolated  from  the  world  of  to-day,  and — -thanks  to 
that  isolation — -completely  independent,  the  Empire  of  the 
Moorish   Sultan   has   preserved    the    customs    and    traditions 


INTO  MOROCCO 


of  its  past,  untouched 
by  modern  civilization, 
unchanged  by  Euro- 
pean influence.  The 
land  is  to-day  as  it 
was,  and  as  it  shall  be 
—  at  least  until  it  be 
conquered  by  the  in- 
fidel, and  the  throne  of 
the  descendants  of  the 
Prophet  be  overthrown 
by  the  enemies  of 
Allah. 

Meantime,  the  con- 
temporary devotees  of  Allah  have  taken  cog- 
nizance of  our  arrival.  Lighters  are  quickly 
manned,  and  we  are  treated  to  an  excellent  representation  of 
the  manner   in    which    Christian    ships    were    boc-rded    and 


BOARDING   THE   SHIP 


INTO  MOROCCO 


19 


pillaged  by  Barbary  pirates,  in  the  day  when  the  Corsairs 
ruled  the  sea,  and  all  Christendom  paid  forced  tribute  to  the 
Sultans,  Deys,  and  Bashas  of  the  Barbary  States.  A  horde  of 
turbaned  porters  and  guides  overrun  the  decks,  seize  indis- 
criminately all  visible  handbags,  bundles,  and  boxes,  and 
toss  them,  yelling  madly  all  the  while,  into  the  boats  which 
rise  and  fall  alongside  as  the  huge  swells  from  the  Atlantic 

glide  swiftly  under- 
neath  our  ship. 
Emulating  wise  and 
pious  Moslems,  we 
decide     to     trust     in 


Allah  for  the  recovery  of  our  belongings  in  due  time  ;  and, 
while  the  battle  of  the  baggage  rages,  we  turn  our  attention 
to  a  neighboring  cattle-ship,  where  the  embarkation  of  its 
bovine  passengers  is  proceeding  with  much  celerity  and  con- 
siderable discomfort  to  the  unhappy  creatures.  The  horns  of 
each  steer  are  bound  with  rope  ;  a  hook  descends,  is  engaged 
in  the  loops  ;  the  donkey-engine  snorts,  and  skyward  go  the 
astonished  steers,  two  at  a  time,  in  attitudes  painfully  undig- 
nified.     But  painful  as  is  this  rise  in  beef,  the  worst  is  still 


20 


INTO    MOROCCO 


to  come.  To  land  the  animal  in  the 
proper  place  upon  the  deck,  fearless  Arabs 
seize  his  tail,  and  by  a  series  of  vigorous 
yanks  and  twists  cause  the  suffering  creat- 
ure to  alight  with  his  nose  pointed  toward 
the  pen  in  which  he  may  leisurely  re- 
adjust his  elongated  carcass, 
recover  from  his  undisguised 
indignation,  and  console 
himself  by  watching  the  pre- 
cipitate arrival  of  some  other 
steer  with  whom  he  may 
have  had  unfriendly  rela- 
tions on  the  Moorish  plains.  Thus  it  is  that  hundreds  of 
head  of  Moorish  cattle  begin  their  fatal  voyage  across  the 
strait  ;  for  vast  quantities  of  Moroccan  beef  go  to  feed  the 
lean  and  hungry  Spaniard,  or  to  supply  the  brawn  and 
muscle  of  Gibraltar's  sturdy  English  garrison. 

Having    witnessed    the    acme  of  this  cruelty,    we  observe 
with  comparative   unconcern  the    unceremonious    manner  in 


A    l.ill.    OK    WOK 


PERSUASIVE   METHODS 


INTO  MOROCCO 


21 


which  the  animals  are  persuaded  to  enter  the  Hghters.  A 
yelHng  band  of  Arabs  and  negroes  boost  and  shove  the  resist- 
ing brute  up  the  gangplank  and  tumble  him  head  foremost 
into  an  already  crowded  boat,  where  he  regains  his  feet  as  best 
he  may.  The  thuds  of  falling  bodies,  the  wild  cries  of  the 
savage  workers,  continue  until,  the  cargo  complete,  the  craft 
puts  off. 


THE    BEACH 


Looking  around  we  find  that  we  have  neared  the 
beach,  above  which  rise  the  frowning  walls  of  old  Tangier. 
Formerly  all  passengers  landed  on  the  beach,  and  in  rough 
weather  the  arrival  of  a  tourist  party  was  a  diverting  spec- 
tacle, the  frightened  passengers  being  carried  from  the  toss- 
ing rowboats  to  the  sandy  beach  upon  the  broad  backs  of 
native  porters.  These  porters  are  invariably  Jews,  for  we  are 
given  to  understand  that  no  self-respecting  Moslem  would 
bend  his  back  to  so  vile  a  burden  as  the  carcass  of  a  "Chris- 
tian dog. ' '     We  almost  regret    the    tameness    of    our    own 


22 


INTO   MOROCCO 


arrival,  for,  thanks  to  a  comparatively  calm  sea,  our  boats  are 
able  to  approach  the  little  pier,  and  to  land  us  without  danger 
or  discomfort  save  that  occasioned  by  the  pressing  curiosity 
of  the  crowd  assembled  to  watch  the  coming  of  the  money- 
spending  infidel. 

The  pier,  by  the  way,  represents  the  one  harbor-improve- 
ment grudgingly  executed  by  the  Moors.  The  harbor  of 
Tangier  could  be  made  most  secure  at  small  expense,  but  the 
Moors  prefer  not  to  tamper  with  it.  ' '  God  made  it  so, ' '  they 
tell  us  ;  "  we  would  not  presume  to  alter  the  wise  arrange- 
ments of  the  Almighty.  ' '  They  did  not  even  attempt  to 
repair  the  old  breakwater  built  by  the  English  years  ago  and 
blown  up  by  them  upon  the  close  of  the  brief  British  occupa- 
tion. The  mention  of  a  British  occupation  recalls  a  bit  of 
history.  Tangier  was  taken  by  the  Portuguese  in  1471.  By 
them  it  was  held  until  a  Portuguese  princess,  Catarina  of  Bra- 
ganza,  went  to  England  as  the  bride  of  Charles  the  Second. 
She    brought  to  him  a  splendid  dower,    including  two  then 


THE    PIER 


INTO    MOROCCO 


23 


THE   HARBOR    DK    TANGIICR 


unimportant  pieces  of  real  estate, —  the  island  of  Bombay  in 
far-off  India,  and  this  city  of  Tangier  at  the  Mediterranean's 
western  gate.  Strange  indeed  the  fate  of  these  two  bits  of 
real  estate.  Bombay,  the  hopeless,  far-away  possession, 
became  in  time  the  glorious  Indian  Empire.  Tangier,  with 
its  unrivaled  situation  at  one  of  the  great  doorways  of  the 
western  world,  was  held  for  twenty  years,  and  then,  through 
sheer  stupidity,  abandoned  to  barbarism.  It  was  returned  by 
England  to  the  Moors  as  a  free  gift ;  a  transaction  almost 
unique  in  Britain  s  history.  But  we  must  not  forget  that 
Gibraltar  was  not  yet  a  cushion  for  the  British  lion  s  paw  ; 
had  it  been  so,  another  paw  would  have  rested  firmly  on  this 
Moorish  shore,  insuring  to  England  absolute  control  of  the 
Gibraltar  Strait. 

But  if  the  Anglo-Saxon  armies  long  since  relinquished 
this  invaluable  prize,  the  Anglo-Saxon  tourist  has  made 
Tangier  his  own.  Having  passed  the  solemn  Moors  who  sit 
at  the  water-gate  at  receipt  of  custom,  we  find  ourselves  in  a 
trough-like  passage  above  which  rises  that  stronghold  of  the 


24 


INTO  MOROCCO 


globe-trotter,  the  Continental  Hotel.  It  appears  like  a  huge 
grin  ujDon  the  frowning  face  of  the  walled  cit)- ;  and  its  hos- 
pitable and  cheery  aspect  contradicts  the  hostile  impression 
produced  by  the  cannon  on  the  ramparts  and  the  scowling 
looks  of  some  of  the  inhabitants. 

Let    not    the   tourist    be    disappointed    because    a    modern 
structure    first    obtrudes    itself        Tangier    is    not     the     real 

Morocco ;  it  is  a 
Moslem  seaport, 
defiled  by  con- 
tact with  an  in- 
fidel world. 

The  late  Sul- 
tan of  Morocco 
disowned  the 
city.  When  last 
he  came  and  be- 
held the  changes 
wrought  by  for- 
eigners, it  is  said 
that  he  exclaim- 
ed: "Allah  con- 
found these 
greedy  Chris- 
tians! —  they 
have  stolen  from 
me  my  beautiful 
Tangier !" 

The  crowd  we 
see  near  yonder 
doorway  is  gath- 
ered by  a  distri- 
bution of  pennies 
to    the    poor,  — 


THE    CONTINENTAL    HOTEL 


INTO    MOROCCO 


27 


an  act  of  charity  performed  every  week  by  the  officials  of 
the  custoni-house.  How  superbly  important  seems  the  white 
robed  Moor  charged  with  the  graceful  task  of  pressing  into 
every  outstretched  dirty  palm  a  shining  Spanish  copper  worth 
about  two  cents,  while  his  assistant  keeps  his  eyes  well  open 
to  detect  repeaters.  Every  now  and  then  there  is  a  lively 
row,  resulting  from  the  detection  of  some  clever  unfortunate. 


A    CROWD    1.IF    MENDICANTS 


who  has  changed  rags  with  a  fellow 
pauper,  and  has  complacently  applied  for  a  second  dose  of 
governmental  generosity.  Utter  poverty  and  black  misery 
are  depicted  upon  the  rags  and  visages  of  the  expectant 
throng  —  even  the  babies  wear  oldish,  knowing  expressions 
on  their  little  faces.  A  strange  feature  is  the  curious  little 
pigtail  worn  by  the  boys,  —  a  pigtail  growing  all  awry,  sprout- 
ing, not  from  the  crown,  but  from  one  side  of  the  head. 
The    pigtail  is  an  agent    of    salvation ;    on    it    depends    the 


28 


INTO  MOROCCO 


PENNIES   FOR    THE    POOR 


hope  of  heaven; 
for  we  are  told 
that  at  the  day 
of  judgment 
Allah  is  to  lift 
the  righteous 
faithful  by  their 
pigtails  into 
paradise.  Apro- 
pos of  this  state- 
ment and  other 
statements  heard 
in  the  course  of 
our  journey,  it 
may  be  well  to  quote  an  Arab  maxim:  "  Never  believe  all 
you  hear;  for  he  who  believes  all  he  hears  often  will  believe 
that  which  is  not.  "  Another  maxim  from  the  same  source 
contains  excellent  advice  for  the  traveler,  and  much  comfort 
for  the  lazy:  "  Do  not  do  all  that  you  can;  for  he  who  does 
all  he  can,  often  will  do  that  which  he  should  not.  "  Another 
is  a  pearl  of  great  price  to  the  returned  traveler  especially: 
"  Do  not  say  all  you  know;  for  he  who  says  all  he  knows 
often  will  say  that  which  he  knows  not."     There  is  yet  a 

' '  I^o 
not  spend  all  you  have;  for 
he  who  spends  all  he  hath, 
often  will  spend  that  which 
he  hath  not.  " 

The  arrival   in  Tangier  is 

unlike  that  in  any  other  city 

in  the  world.      Every  native 

face  is  a  type,  every  group  a 

\hTER  picture.      We  begin  to 

1  ASTING 

GOVERNMENTAL     lovc  thc  dirt,  thc  smclls 

GENEROSITY 


fourth  gem  of  Arabian  wisdom  with  a  similar  setting: 


INTO    MOROCCO 


29 


(not  all  bad  ones,  by  any  means,  merely 
strange  foreign  smells  suggestive  of  what 
old  and  Oriental),  and  as  we  make 
way  into  the  perplexing  maze  of 
Tangier's  weird  little  alleys,  we 
seem  to  have  taken  a  journey 
backward  through  the  ages. 
Our  sensations  might  be  those 
of  one  suddenly  transported 
from  this  familiar  earth  to 
a  strange  planet  ;  and  yet 
the  hills  of  Spain  are  seen 
across  the  straits.  A  group 
of  water-carriers  earnestly 
discussing  some  important 
piece  of  news  that  probably 
will  never  be  published  to  the 
Christian  world,  forms  a  picture 
almost  Biblical  in  its  antiquity. 
They  are  retailers  of  that  prec- 
ious beverage,  —  the  beverage  of  all 
the  worshipers  of  Allah,  —  the  true  gift 
of  God,  pure  water.  We  can  forgive  the 
Moslem  many  things,  because  he  never  has  been,  and, 
so  long  as  he  clings  to  the  religion  of  his  fathers,  never 
will  be,  a  drunkard.  The  water-bags  are  goat-skins,  the 
long  neck  serving  as  a  faucet  ;  but  although  we  are  as 
thirsty  as  the  African  sun  itself,  we  do  not  patronize  these 
itinerant  fountains  ;  being  newly  come  to  Tangier,  our 
squeamishness  interferes  with  an  indulgence  in  many  little 
comforts  ;  but  what  a  surprising  revolution  will  be  worked 
by  an  expedition  into  Morocco  !  We  shall  return  from  the 
interior  with  adamantine  sensibilities  as  regards  such  trifles. 
But  to-day  we  are  open  to    impressions    of    all    kinds.      So 


COMRADES    IN    POVERTY 


30 


INTO    MOROCCO 


dazed  are  we  by  the  strangeness  of  our  surroundings  that  we 
have  left  no  words  with  which  to  express  our  delight  when, 
stepping  out  at  last  upon  the  balcony  of  our  hotel,  we  look 
down  upon  Tangier,  the  ' '  White  City  of  the  Straits. ' '  Below 
us  is  the  beach,  dotted  with  the  rude  camps  of  pilgrims  who 
are  awaiting  ships  for  Mecca;  above  it  are  tiers  of  batteries: 
beyond  we  see  a  mass  of  white  cubes,  the  dwelling-houses  of 


WATER  CARRIERS 


the  Moors.  A  dainty  minaret,  green-tiled 
and  graceful,  rises  from  this  angular  snow-bank;  near  it,  the 
flags  of  foreign  nations  float  above  their  respective  consulates 
and  legations.  Strange  indeed  this  mingling  of  the  Occi- 
dental and  the  Oriental,  beautiful  indeed  this  city  of  Tangier, 
the  sentinel  city  of  Morocco,  posted  here  at  the  corner  of 
Africa  to  watch  with  jealous  eyes  for  the  coming  of  the 
inevitable  conqueror  who  is  to  sally  forth  from  the  gates  of 
Christendom,  dimly  discerned  across  the  Gibraltar  Channel. 
Of  small  account  will  be  these  batteries,  furnished  with  anti- 


INTO    MOROCCO 


33 


quated  cannon.  These  crippled  dogs  of  war  rend  nothing 
more  tangible  than  air,  and  damage  nothing  but  ear-drums. 
And  frequently  is  the  air  rent,  and  the  ear  assaulted,  for  the 
arrival  of  every  man-of-war  is  greeted  with  a  ferocious  salvo 
of  artillery,  at  sound  of  which  the  Moors  gaze  proudly  sea- 
ward, expand  their  chests,  recall  the  days  when  Moorish 
corsairs  ruled  the  seas,  and  dream  of  future  victories  for  the 
armies  of  the  Prophet. 

The  sunshine  in  this  land  is  wonderful  ;  at  seven  in  the 
morning  it  is  so  brilliant  that  we  cannot  bear  the  reflection 
from  the  chalky  housetops,  and  recover  the  use  of  our  eye- 
sight only  when  in  the  dark  and  narrow  corridors  that  serve 
the  Tangerines  in  lieu  of  streets.  The  thoroughfare  which 
every  visitor  must  traverse  when  going  from  the  hotel  to  the 
great  or  lesser  market-places,  is  distinctly  banal  m  aspect. 
It     is    the    leading    shopping    street    of    the    European    resi- 


THE    WHITE  CITY  OF   THE  STRAITS 


34 


INTO    MOROCCO 


dents ;  its  shops 
are  stuffed  with 
canned  provisions, 
patent-  medicines, 
and  playing-cards, 
while  a  saloon  or 
two  make  known 
their  presence, 
even  to  the  blind, 
by  strong  gin-like 
aromas  wafted 
thence.  When 
lost  in  the  laby- 
rinthine maze 
of  Moorish  Tan- 
gier, the  foreigner 
has  but  to  follow 
his  nose  to  reach 
the  place  where 
rum  and  brandy 
are  on  sale,  and  European  civilization  Avell  in  evidence.  Then 
he  may  emerge  into  the  lesser  market-place,  or  "  Soko,  "  as  it 
is  called  in  local  speech.  Here  he  finds  one  tiny  French  cafe 
and  the  postal  stations  of  England,  Spain,  and  France  ;  for 
as  Morocco's  postal-service  is  on  a  par  with  its  other  govern- 
mental enterprises,  these  nations  each  maintain  post-offices 
in  Tangier  and  an  elaborate  courier  service  in  the  interior. 
European  mails  now  penetrate  to  Fez,  even  to  Mequinez  and 
Morocco  City,  with  tolerable  dispatch  and  certainty. 

While  we  refresh  ourselves  at  the  cafe,  we  are  amused  by 
the  ape-like  antics  of  a  negro  from  the  far-away  province  of 
Suss.  His  wig  of  wool  is  hung  with  shells  and  teeth  and 
nails,  all  of  which  clatter  as  he  dances  to  the  music  of  a 
f>air  of  iron   castanets. 


THE  STREET  OF  ErROPEAN  SHOPS 


INTO    MOROCCO 


35 


But  he  cannot  compare  in  picturesqueness  with  this  other 
visitor  —  a  superb  representative  of  the  saintly  beggar  class. 
So  imposing  a  revelation  of  dignity  in  rags  it  is  not  possible 
to  find  among  men  of  any  other  race  or  creed.  We  learn 
that  this  haughty  mendicant  is  crazy  ;  that  in  Morocco, 
insanity  is  the  most  valuable  asset  of  those  who  desire  to 
engage  in  what  European  residents  irreverently  term  the 
"saint  business.  "  The  Moors  are  convinced  that  if  the  mind 
of  a  man  inhabit  not  his  body,  it  is  because  God,  having 
discerned  in  that  mind  much  beauty  of  holiness,  retains  it  in 
paradise  as  a  thing  too  precious  to  be  sent  with  the  man  to 
earth.  Therefore  great  consideration  should  be  shown  for 
the  mortal  coil  pertaining  to 


THE   CAFE    IN    THE    LITTLE   SOKO 


36 


INTO    MOROCCO 


that  mind.  Thus  "crazy"  has  become  a  synonym  for 
"sanctified,  "  and  an  insane  man  has  but  to  mumble  prayer^s, 
and  watch  his  saner  fellow-citizens  vie  with  one  another  in 
propitiating  him  with  gifts  and  offerings.  But  sometimes 
this  insanity  is  only  feigned,  and  some  of  these  weird  charac- 
ters are  in  reality  agents  of  the  militant  Moslem  brotherhoods 
of  Tripoli  and  Tunis,  charged  with  the  spreading  of  a 
Mohammedan  propaganda  and  the  keeping  alive  of  bitter 
anti-Christian  agitation. 

If  we  follow  this  splendid  miserable^  we  shall  pres- 
ently lose  sight  of  him  in  the  confusion  of  the  be-draped, 
be-hooded  crowd  surging  through  the  upper  gate  that  opens 
toward  the  greater  market-place,  or  "  Soko,  "  on  the  high 
ground  behind  the  city.  The  women  are  closely  veiled 
and  buried  in  the        ,  ,.      ;*      "        -Skcs.  smothering    folds 

of  the  white  ^^P"^  '•*^%^        woolen 

haik. ' '    ,^^.  »^^       All  rich 


M*      ^ 


SINGING    NEGRO 
FROM    THE 
SUSS 


INTO    MOROCCO 


37 


DIGNITY    IN    RAGS 


men  wear  the 
colored  caftan,  or 
the  white  burnoose, 
and  some  are  draped  in  muslin  veils  ;  the  poor  men  wear  the 
rough  brown  jelaba,  a  sack-like  garment  with  a  pointed  hood. 
On  feet  that  are  not  bare  are  yellow  slippers  ;  on  the  heads, 
a  red  fez,  a  white  turban,  or  a  monkish-looking  hood. 

The  Soko  on  Thursday  or  on  Sunday  (local  market-days) 
is  a  sight  to  be  remembered.  The  market-place  itself  is, 
literally,  out  of  sight  ;  during  the  night  and  early  morning, 
living  things,  from  men  to  mules,  from  women  to  camels, 
and  things  inanimate,  from  eggs  to  beef  and  mutton,  from 
oats  to  olive  oil,  have  been  gathered  together,  spread  out, 
heaped  up,  forming  a  mass  that  moves  and  gives  forth  cries 
and  odors.  Twice  every  week  the  sun  looks  down  upon  a 
scene  like  this.  Here  in  the  Soko  is  the  true  frontier  between 
the  Christian  and  the  Moslem  worlds.  Here  is  the  border- 
land of  the  real  Africa  ;  here  couriers  from  Fez  and  from  the 
desert  region  farther  south  meet  the  postmen  of  the  European 


38 


INTO    MOROCCO 


services;    here  siirgfes   the    murky   tide 
of  African  humanity  ;  here  breaks  th 
last  sun-crested    wave    of    continental 
civilization  ;  here  top-hats  and  turban 
mingle  ;     here     Europe     ends 
and  Africa  begins. 

From  the  windows  of 
the  legation  of  a  European 
nation  which  open  upon 
the  Soko,  there  are  wafted 
lively  measures  of  piano 
melody  ;  and  these  are  al- 
most  drowned  by  the  prayers 
of  beggars,  the  vociferations 
of  the  trading  throng,  and 
the  incantations  of  half-crazy  conjurors.  Conquering  our  first 
emotion  of  aversion,  almost  of  fear,  we  press  through  the  ill- 
smelling,  yelling  crowd,  and  work  our  way  to  the  front  rank 


A    SPLENDID 


THt:   BE-DRAPED,    BEHOODED    CROWD 


INTO    MOROCCO 


39 


THE  BORDERLAND  OF  THE  REAL  AFRICA 


of  a  magician's  audience.     The  conjuror  welcomes  us  with 
curses,   and    refuses    to    continue    his  performance  until  our 


-■-^ 


THK  SOKO  ON  SUNDAY 


40 


INTO    MOROCCO 


:v  RSING    CONJUROR 


cameras  have  been 
lowered,  and  our 
offering  of  money 
has  been  cast  into 
the  ring  of  specta- 
tors. Then,  muttering  strange  prayers,  he  gathers  from  the 
ground  a  handful  of  straw,  calls  on  his  god,  and  on  the  gen- 
erosity of  the  onlookers,  and  blowing  upon  the  straw  causes 
it  miraculously  to  burst  into  flames,  which  instantly  consume 
it.  More  offerings  are  then  demanded,  more  prayers  are  said, 
and  more  unflattering  remarks  are  made  concerning  us  ;  for  to 
curse  and  to  insult  a  Christian  is  a  pious  deed.  Another  trick 
is  performed  :  A  youth  is  (supposedly)  hypnotized,  and  while 
he  seems  unconscious,  a  long  bodkin  is  thrust  through  the 
flesh  of  his  throat  and  the  ends  left  protruding,  while  the  old 
fakir  takes  up  the  most  successful  collection  of  the  afternoon. 
Because  we  do  not  give  more  silver  coins  instead  of  Moorish 
coppers,  the  holy  wonder-worker  exhausts  his  stock  of  anti- 
Christian  expletives,  much  to  the  edification  of  his  sympa- 
thetic congregation.  So  great  is  the  hatred  of  Christians  on 
the  part  of  the  lower  classes  that  even  the    beggars   return 


£^'^ 


"       ^^i 


■^^.^^^' 


-^, 


"MAY  ALLAH    HHKX    ^•()|■k   G  K  AN  I)  M(  )ri  I  I.  K:'" 


INTO    MOROCCO 


43 


HYPNOTIZED  ! 


curses  instead  of  thanks,  atoning  for  the  sin  of  receiving 
unclean  Christian  money  by  calling  down  the  wrath  of 
heaven,  not  only  upon  our  heads,  but  also  upon  the  heads  of 
all  who  are  dear  to  us,  or  related  to  us,  even  unto  the  fourth 
and  fifth  generation  of  those  who  have  preceded  us  and  are 
responsible  for  our  existence.  One  simple  and  popular 
anathema  is,  "  May  Allah  burn  your  grandmother  !  "  Another 
expresses  the  wish  that  the  wife  of  your  great-grandfather 
may  enjoy  perpetual  torridity  in  the  nether  world. 

The  blind  mendicants  beg  in  little  companies  of  six  or 
eight.  One  sightless  horrible,  standing,  cries  aloud  for 
charity    in    the    name    of    his    companions.      These    are    not 


44 


INTO    MOROCCO 


pleasant  sights,  but  no  true  impression  of  Tangier  can  be 
imparted  if  we  leave  out  of  the  picture  the  rags,  the  beggars, 
and  the  dirt.  One  more  sad  spectacle  must  suffice  —  that  of 
an  old  beggar,  shriveled  by  age,  baked  by  the  cruel  sun,  bent 
beneath  the  burden  of  many  hopeless  years,  not  even  clad  in 
rags,  but  merely  covered  with  a  mat  of  straw  —  a  superlative 
expression  of  Moroccan  miser}'. 

Here  we  may  recall  the  story  of  the  English  clergyman, 
who,  touched  at  the  sight  of  all  this  misery  and  ignorance, 
resolved  to  tell  the  gospel-story  to  the  people  of  Tangier  — 
to  make  a  public  exhortation  in  the  market-place.  With  the 
greatest  difficulty  he  secured  a  capable  interpreter,  for  most 
of  the  hotel  guides  feared  to  assist  him  in  his  rash  and 
dangerous  crusade.  When  the  pious  preacher  began  his 
sermon  in  the  market-place,  he  was  not  only  surprised,  but 
thoroughly  delighted  at  the  reverence  with  which  his 
glowing  •  *  words,   translated    by 


A    PI'.TTV     IKANSACTION 


INTO    MOROCCO 


45 


MOROCCAN 
MISERY 


his  guide,  were  received  by  the  atten- 
tive throng  of  Moslems.  When  he  had 
finished,  he  was  even  urged  to  speak 
again.  Undoubtedly  the  good  man  car- 
ried away  a  soul  filled  with  joy 
because  of  the  good  seed  he  had 
planted  here.  One  English  news- 
paper chronicled  the  marked 
interest  shown  by  the  heathen  in 
the  words  of  Christian  truth  ;  but 
it  is  to  be  hoped  that  the  good 
man  will  never  learn  that  while 
he  stood  in  the  center  of  this  meeting  place  and  spoke,  his 
diplomatic  interpreter  and  guide  not  only  held  the  respectful 
ears  of  the  crowd,  but  possibly  saved  the  missionary's  life 
by  cleverly  turning  the  orthodox  sermon  into  one  of  the 
favorite  romances  from  the  "Arabian  Nights.  " 

No,  it  is  virtually  impossible  to  turn  the  Moslem  from  the 
faith  of  his  fathers.      His  religion  forms  tco  intimate  a  part  of 


46 


INTO    MOROCCO 


his  daily  life  ;  his  religious  fasts  and  festivals  are  observed 
with  a  strictness  that  is  absolute.  We  chanced  to  witness 
the  celebration  of  the  great  feast  called  Aid-el-Kebir.  The 
early  morning  finds  us  on  a  hillside  near  the  market,  where 
there  is  gathered  a  multitude  of  spectral  forms.  Here  the 
slanting  rays  of  the  newly  risen  sun  draw  out  all  shadows  to 
a  grotesque  length,  while  from  the  midst  of  the  assemblage 


MOSLEM    SALVATIONISTS 


there  bursts  a  cloud  of  smoke  which  like  a  veil  conceals 
the  wild  tribesmen  who  are  there  performing  a  fantastic 
powder-play  with  old-fashioned  noisy  flintlocks.  An  hour 
later  the  populace  repairs  to  the  high-walled  garden  of  a 
suburban  mosque  to  witness  the  sacrifice  of  a  magnificent 
ram.  The  ram,  however,  is  not  allowed  to  die  in  peace,  for 
according  to  an  ancient  custom  its  bleeding  body  must  be 
borne    swiftly   down  through    the    city  streets    to    the    great 


INTO  MOROCCO 


49 


mo&que  in  the  lower  town,  where,  if  it  arrives  living,  the 
omen  for  the  year  is  pronounced  good;  if  dead,  the  wise  men 
shake  their  heads  and  prophesy  disaster.  Hence  are  the 
swiftest  runners  employed  to  dash  with  the  dying  burden 
across  the  Soko,  into  the  city  gates,  down  abrupt  alleys  to 
the  other  sanctuary.  Like  a  host  of  madmen  they  rush  past 
us,  the  sheep  slung  in  a  basket  dragged  by  four  men.  Thrice 
do  the  bearers  stumble,  thrice  is  the  bleeding  mass  rolled  in 
the  dust,  thrice  is  the  mad  race  resumed,  the  people  urging 
on  the  panting  runners  with  cries,  and  sticks,  and  stones. 
The  sacrificial  ram  is  dead  upon  arriving  at  the  mosque,  yet 
it  is  given  out  by  the  authorities  that  it  was  still  alive.     The 


NEAR  THIC  .sUi:rKi;A.\   MOSQUE 


so 


INTO  MOROCCO 


THE   BASHA   OF   TANGIER 


disorderly  mob  disappears  through  the  arched  portals  of  the 
town,  and  a  dignified  procession  crosses  the  Soko.  The 
Basha,  or  Governor,  of  the  province  of  Tangier,  with  his 
mounted  escort,  is  returning  from  the  recent  ceremony. 
Although  his  salary  is  only  seventy-five  dollars  a  month,  this 
wise  official,  by  strict  economy,  has  grown  very  rich.  He, 
like  all  the  swells,  rides  a  handsome  mule;  for  m  Morocco 
mules  enjoy  much  favor  and  are  preferred  to  horses  for  long 
journeys  and  for  city  promenades;  in  fact,  for  everything, 
save  battle. 

A  feast  is  held  in  every  house  upon    this    sacred    day,   a 
sheep  being  sacrificed  for  each  adult  member  of  the  family. 


INTO  MOROCCO 


51 


:>*'■ 


M'.< 


THE   SACRIFICIAL    RAM 


We  see  many  a  woolly  burden  carried 
through  the  streets  upon  the  shoulders 
of  the  purchaser.  Other  means  also  are 
employed  for  the  successful  home-bring- 
ing of  the  fatted  creatures.  One  man 
will  attempt  to  drag  the  balky  ram  by  the 
horns;  another,  more  clever,  will  seize  the 
hind  feet  and  shove  the  sheep  along  as  one 
would  push  a  wheelbarrow,  the  result  being  a 
wildly  zigzag  progress  down  the  steep,  narrow 
streets.  Throughout  the  entire  Moslem  world 
this  day  of  Aid-el-Kebir  is  celebrated.  At 
Mecca,  the  fountain-head  of  the  Moslem  faith, 
a  hundred  and  twenty  thousand  sheep  are  put 
to  the  knife  at  each  recurrence  of  the  festival. 
Even  in  Tangier  the  feast  may  be  likened  to 
an  ovine  Saint  Bartholomew  Massacre,  a  day  as  fatal  to  these 
woolly  victims  as  is  Thanksgiving  day  to  the  devoted  gobblers 
of  New  England.  The  city  becomes  a  mammoth  butcher- 
shop;  the  gutters  in  the  narrow  streets  run  red  with  blood. 
To  escape  these  little  tragedies,  we  make  our  way  up  to  the 
higher  regions  of  the  town,  where  the  Palace  of  the 
Governor,  the  Treasury  Building,  and  the  Prison  are 
found  in  close  proximity  to  one  another.  \\'e 
find  the  palace  inaccessible,  the  treasury  empty, 
and  the  prison  full. 

The    prison    externally    is  a  blank, 

white  structure,  high   and   in  sad  want 

of  repair.      We  enter  a  small  vestibule, 

_f^  where    several    lazy    guards 

are  stationed;  they  indicate 

an    opening    in    the  wall,   a 

window,  protected  by  heavy 

bars    and  closed  by  a  thick 


AN   OVINE   SAINT    BARTHOLOMEW 


52 


INTO  MOROCCO 


metal  shutter.  This,  they  say,  is  the  unique  means  of 
ingress  to  the  prison.  No  means  of  egress  is  required,  for 
prisoners  seldom  come  thence  alive.  A  hasty  glance  through 
a  round  hole  in  the  metal  shutter  reveals  a  filthy,  spacious 
hall,  crowded  with  animated  mummies  loosely  wrapped  in 
earth-colored  tatters.  We  are  told  that  no  food  is  furnished 
to  the  prisoners  save  that  which  may  be  brought  by  pitying 


THE  ONLY  DOORWAY  TO  THE  PRISON 


outsiders,  friends  of  the  unfortunates  within.  The  govern- 
ment allows  its  victims  the  one  privilege  of  reaching  out 
through  the  little  aperture  for  the  bread  of  pity.  Some  of 
ths  prisoners  make  colored  baskets,  like  those  which  hang 
upon  the  wall,  and  eke  out  an  existence  by  the  sale  of  these. 
The  presence  of  a  traveler  becoming  known  in  the  den, 
baskets  by  the  dozen  come  tumbling  out  to  tempt  him  in 
charity  to  buy. 

While  it  is  difficult  for  a  man  to  get  out  of  the  prison,  it 
is  absolutely  impossible  for  a  man  to  enter  the  harem  of  the 


INTO  MOROCCO 


55 


THK    KASHA  S    PALACE    AND   THE   TREASURY 


neighboring    palace    of    the 

Basha;  but  foreign  women  are  sometimes  presented  to  the 
Basha's  wives.  One  feminine  visitor  reports  that  the  mys- 
terious beauties  examined  carefully  the  details  of  her  dress. 
"  Oh,  "  said  one  to  another,  as  she  discovered  that  the  white 
hands  were  gloved,  "  see!  —  the  American  lady  has  two  skins 
upon  her  hands!"  In  reply  to  a  question  as  to  what  little 
present  might  be  welcome,  one  Oriental  matron  replied  with 
much  enthusiasm,  "Ah,  send  us  from  your  country  some 
of  those  pretty  little  combs  with  the  fine  teeth  —  they  are  so 
much  more  useful  than  our  coarse  ones,  and  —  we  need  them 
very  much ! ' ' 

Leaving  the  inhospitable  palace,  we  descend  to  the  one 
building  of  all  Tangier,  in  which  we  are  certain  to  receive  a  cor- 
dial welcome.  The  shield  of  the  United  States  Consulate-Gen- 
eral dispels  the  Moorish  gloom  of  at  least  one  dim  thoroughfare. 
Here  in  this  land  of  despotism  and  darkness  it  shines  forth 
like  a  symbol  of  liberty  and  light.     The  Consul-General,  Dr. 


56 


INTO  MOROCCO 


J.  J.  Barclay,  tells  us 
with  justifiable  pride 
that  "his  grandfather, 
the  Hon.  Thos.  Bar- 
clay, negotiated  the 
first  treaty  between 
the  United  States 
and  the  Empire  of 
Morocco.  He  shows 
us  two  interesting 
documents;  one,  the 
Consular  Commis- 
sion signed  by 
George  Washington; 
the  other,  the  Exe- 
quatur granted  by 
the  Sultan  to  the 
first  Consul  of  the 
young  American 
Republic.  The  fol- 
lowing is  a  transla- 
tion of  the  Exequa- 
tur, made  by  the  offi- 
cial interpreter  of  the 
Consulate  -  General: 
"In  the  name  of  God,  the  Clement  and  Merciful.     There 

is  no  strength  or  force  but  in  God,  the  High  and  Eternal. 

From    Abdallah    Mohammed,    Ben    Abdallah,   in  whom  the 

Almighty  deposited  his  confidence. 


AT  tup:  n.  s.  consi'laii: 


IMPERIAL  SEAL 


"To  the  great  President  of  the  American  States:  I  salute 
you  with  empressment,  and  hope  in  God  you  are  well.  The 
Ambassador,  Thomas  Barclay,  has  come  to  us  bearing  a  prec- 
ious letter  from  the  Spaniard  Charles.      We  have  read  it,  and 


INTO  MOROCCO 


57 


we  understand  all  its  contents  in  which  you  asked  us  peace 
with  you  like  the  other  Christian  nations  with  whom  you  have 
made  peace.  We  accept  your  demand,  and  peace  be  between 
us  on  land  and  sea,  and  according  to  the  Treaties  you  demanded 
from  us.  We  have  written  this  in  our  letter  to  you,  to  which 
I  affixed  my  Sheriffian  seal,  and  we  have  ordered  all  our  em- 
ployees in  my  seaports  to  do  with  your  vessels  and  merchandise 
that  go  to  my  seaports,  as  they  do  with  those  of  the  Spaniards, 
and  your  vessels  can  enter,  and  anchor  with  safety  in  any  of 
my  seaports  you  choose,  from  Tetuan  to  Wadnoon;  they  can 
also  buy  and  sell,  and  do  business  for  themselves,  and  they 
can  depart.  We  have  answered  just  like  this  to  the  great 
Spaniard  Charles,  who  wrote  me  a  letter  on  your  behalf.  I 
join  with  you  in  perfect  peace  and  friendship.  In  peace. 
"This  is  written  the  tirst  day  of  the  blessed  month  of 
Ramadan    1200(1785-1786)." 


THE   HOME   OF   MR.    PERDICARIS 


58 


INTO  MOROCCO 


To  Dr.  Barclay  we  confided  our  cherished  plans  for  a 
journey  into  Morocco,  and  asked  him  to  advise,  assist,  and 
guide  us.  He  became  most  zealous  in  our  cause;  made  light 
of  the  difficulty  and  danger  said  to  attend  the  journey,  spoke 
in  glowing  terms  of  the  pleasures  and  surprises  in  store  for 
us.  Within  the  week  all  the  formalities  incident  to  our 
departure  are  complied  with.  The  Moorish  Minister  of  For- 
eign Affairs  has  graciously  granted  us  permission  to  traverse 
the  Empire  of  his  Master,  the  Sultan  of  Morocco,  and  he  has 
provided  us  with  letters  to  many  provincial  chiefs,  and  to  the 
Governor  of  Fez,  the  capital.  He  has  promised  us  a  military 
escort  equal  to  our  needs,  and  has  called  down  blessings  upon 
us,  and  has  accepted  the  usual  little  token  of  our  high  esteem 
in  the  form  of  a  pile  of  Spanish  dollars.  All  this  we  owed 
to  the  good  offices  of  Dr.    Barclay,   to  whom  also  we  owed 


U„y .,«./ „.„y,..,.,„.-.,., .  W.-/ 


,-.  „///,..„„,  1,,,^  '-../i,,/. 


■A:..  - 


■'    ' '•■/"■'-'■ "- 


COMMISSION   OK    CONSLX    THOMAS    BAKCI,A^■    SKiXED    B^■    GEORGE    WASHINGTON 


INTO  MOROCCO 


59 


::^%- 


J  ^;^  I  f— rb^^U-g^ 


Ju^I^jCm 


EXEQUATUR   OF    THE  FIRST    L'.  S.    CONSUL    TO    TANGIER 


a    delightful 

glimpse    of   the 

gay  social  life  led 

by    the    foreign 

residents  and 

diplomats  in  old 

Tangier. 

The  hillsides 

round  about  the 

city    are    dotted 

with      luxurious, 

palatial  villas,  in 

the  drawing- 

rooms   of    which 

cosmopolitan 

gatherings    d  i  s  - 

cuss    the     latest 

continental  news 

in   half  a    dozen 

languages.  Ac- 
cord i  n  g  to  an 
English    dictum, 

' '  Society  in  Tan- 
gier is  split  into 
three  factions, — those  who  will  know  one  another,  those 
who  won 't  know  one  another,  and  those  who  must  know 
one  another,  but  don't  like  to."  There  are  artists, 
musicians,  and  diplomats,  millionaires  and  globe-trotters, 
and  ex-consuls  and  ex-ministers  by  the  dozen  ;  for  they 
say  that  when  one  has  lived  in  Tangier,  it  is  not  pos- 
sible to  be  contented  elsewhere.  Therefore  many  men 
who  come  hither  for  a  few  years  of  diplomatic  service, 
end  by  purchasing  hillside  villas  and  becoming  permanent 
residents. 


6o 


INTO  MOROCCO 


A    LAST    LOOK    AT   TANGIER 


Tangerine  hospitality  is  famous  for  its  freedom,  but  we 
have  little  time  for  social  dissipations.  Every  moment  is 
occupied  in  preparations  for  departure.  A  few  days  more 
and  we  are  to  leave  this  most  attractive  corner  of  Cosmopolis, 
bid  farewell  to  friends,  to  comfort,  and  to  civilization.  The 
hotel  will  give  place  to  the  tent,  the  daily  pony-canter  on  the 
beach  to  the  long  weary  marches  of  our  caravan  over  hills  and 
mountains,  in  the  region  where  there  are  no  roads,  where 
to-day  is  the  same  as  yesterday.  We  are  to  voyage  forth 
upon  a  strange  expanse,  where  the  ship  of  Moorish  civiliza- 
tion, stranded  upon  the  shoals  of  the  religion  of  immutability, 
has  lain  rotting  since  the  conquest  of  Granada. 

It  is  but  right  that  you  should  know  something  about  the 
men  upon  whom  our  future  comfort,  welfare,  and  safety 
entirely  depend.  Let  me  introduce,  first  of  all,  the  most 
faithful  of  guides,  the  most  honest  of  dragomans,  the  cheeriest 
of  companions,  the  cleverest  of  pathfinders,  the  best  of  cooks, 
and  —  the  most  amusing  prevaricator  I  have  ever  known. 
His  name  is  like  all  Moorish  names,  a  mouthful,  "  Haj  Abd- 
er-Rahman  Salama.  "     We  see  him  first  at  the  door  of  his 


INTO  MOROCCO 


61 


dwelling,  a  bright  young  Salama  at  his  side.  We  speak 
with  him  in  French  and  Spanish,  for  his  much-advertised 
command  of  English  is  monumentally  inadequate.  More- 
over in  French  he  speaks  like  a  gentleman,  in  English  like  a 
blackguard;  one  language  having  been  learned  in  Algiers 
and  in  Paris,  the  other  picked  up  from  profane  sportsmen, 
while  serving  as  dragoman  for  pig-sticking  expeditions.  As 
for  his  name,  we  forget  it  altogether,  and  address  him  simply 
as  Haj,  the  word  ' '  Haj ' '  being  a  sort  of  honorific  prefix,  mean- 
ing Pilgrim,  in  other  words,  a  righteous  Moslem  who  has 
made  the  Holy  Pilgrimage  to  Mecca.  When  it  was  noised 
abroad  that  we  were  thinking  of  a  trip  to  Fez,  the  profes- 
sional guides  of  Tangier  looked  on  us  as  lawful,  tempting 
prey.  One  Jewish  pathfinder  proffered  his  services  and  outfit 
for  seven  English  pounds  a  day.  Then  others  came  with 
other  propositions,  and  there  ensued  a  veritable  rate-war  in 
which  tents  figure  in  place  of  Pullman  cars,  and,  in  place  of 
sixty-miles-an-hour  locomotives,  mules  that  travel  only  sixteen 
miles  a  day.  And  Haj  triumphed  over  all  competitors,  not 
because  he  made  the  lowest  bid,  but  because  we  saw  in  him  a 
useful,  clever  man,  full  of  re- 
source, one  of  the  few  Moorish 
minds  able  to  respond  to  Anglo- 
Saxon  sympathies.  He  is  one 
who  has  bridged  the  gulf  be- 
tween the  Moslem  and  the 
Christian  races,  at  the  cost, 
possibly,  of  his  orthodoxy  and 
his  hopes  of  heaven. 

In  violent  contrast  to  him 
in  these  respects,  is  our  mili- 
tary escort:  our  fighting-force, 
assigned  us  by  the  government 
and  consisting  of  one  personal 


}  W^ 


THE   BEST   OF   GUIDES, 

HA]   ABD-ER-RAHMAN   SAI-AMA 


62 


INTO  MOROCCO 


KAIU    LHAKBI,    Ol'R    MILITARY    ESCORT 


unit  —  with  dig- 
nity and  bigotry 
and  decorative 
picturesqueness 
enough  for  half  a 
regiment.  K  a  i  d 
I  Lharbi,  for  such 
are  his  title 
and  name, 
belongs  to 
t  h  e  Mak- 
h  a  z  n  i ,  or 
corps  of  ir- 
regular  cavalry, 
the  most  orna- 
mental branch  of  the  Moorish  Sultan's  army.  No  traveler  is 
permitted  to  go  into  Morocco  unless  chaperoned  by  a  Makhazni. 
Kaid  Lharbi  will  be  for  us  a  sort  of  living  passport,  his  pres- 
ence at  the  head  of  our  caravan  assuring  all  persons  that  we 
are  traveling  under  the  protection  of  the  Moorish  govern- 
ment, and  that  offenses  against  us  will  be  severely  punished. 
Without  this  living  token  of  governmental  sanction  for  our 
expedition,  it  would  be  within  the  power  of  any  local  chief  to 
arrest  our  progress,  sending  us  back  in  ignominious  captiv- 
ity to  Tangier  ;  or,  if  he  preferred,  he  could  rob  us  with 
impunity.  Kaid  Lharbi  is  therefore  a  valuable  acquisition 
from  the  standpoints  both  of  safety  and  of  picturesqueness. 
He  is  Moorish  in  the  fullest  sense;  he  thinks  such  thoughts 
and  dreams  such  dreams  as  did  his  fathers  half  a  thousand 
years  ago.  He  carries  a  tlmtlock  made  in  Tetuan,  and  is 
supplied  with  a  lump  of  lead  and  a  small  bullet-mold,  that 
in  case  of  attack  he  may  be  able  to  cast  the  necessary  bullets. 
The  sixth  day  of  May  is  appointed  for  the  departure  of 
our  caravan.      It  is  a  memorable  day  for  us,  because  it  marks 


INTO  MOROCCO 


63 


the  close  of  a  long  period  of  doubt  and  uncertainty  as  to  the 
possibility  of  undertaking  the  expedition,  and  because  it 
marks  the  beginning  of  a  new  life  —  the  entry  into  a  new 
world,  which  is  yet  immeasurably  old.  The  pack-mules  in 
charge  of  the  three  servants  have  been  sent  on  ahead  to  await 
us  in  the  suburbs.  Raid  Lharbi,  muffled  in  his  blue  burnoose, 
has  been  stationed  like  an  equestrian  statue  at  the  door  of  the 
hotel  since  early  morning.  Haj,  the  guide,  is  here,  there,  and 
everywhere,  attending  to  the  thousand  and  one  little  details 
and   difficulties   that   always   arise   at   the   last   moment. 

We  bid  adieu  to  our  acquaintances  at  the  hotel  door.  At 
last  the  start  is  made,  we  file  through  narrow  streets,  cross 
the  crowded  market-place,  and  on  its  outskirts  overtake  the 
pack-mules  and  the  muleteers.  A  few  necessary  articles, 
brought  at  the  last  moment  by  our  thoughtful  Haj,  who 
would  have  felt  himself  disgraced  had  he  forgotten  anything, 
are  added  to  the  already  heavy  burdens  of  the  mules. 


THE    DEPARTURE 


64 


INTO  MOROCCO 


Then  at  a  signal,  our  men,  the  skeptic  Haj,  and  all  the 
rest  reverently  turn  their  faces  toward  the  East,  toward 
Holy  Mecca,  -      — --  -— -^        while    Raid    Lharbi,    his 


ADDING  THE  LAST 
ITEM    TO   THE   PACKS 


head  bent  low  over  his  horse's  neck,  intones  an  impressive 
prayer  for  the  successful  and  happy  termination  of  our 
journey.  This  pious  duty  done,  the  order  for  a  forward 
march  is  given,  and  in  single  file  our  little  train  of  men, 
horses,  mules,  and  donkeys  winds  its  way  out  of  Tangier, 
every  hoof-beat  of  the  animals  taking  us  nearer  to  the 
Middle  Ages.  Gradually  the  suburban  street  becomes  a 
lane,  gradually  the  lane  fades  away,  becoming  a  mere  trail, 
and  finally  the  trail  itself,  crossing  a  ruined  bridge,  loses 
itself  in  the  roadless  vastness  of  the   Moorish  Empire. 

Never  in  all  my  travels  have  I  more  keenly  felt  that 
oppressive  sense  of  separation  from  things  known  and  famil- 
iar than  at  this  moment.      No  previous  departure  by  train  or 


INTO    MOROCCO 


65 


steamer  had  ever  seemed  so  definitely  to  break  the  link  that 
binds  us  to  our  own  age  and  our  own  civilization.  Here,  at 
the  bridge  that  spans  a  dry  and  thirsty  river-bed,  all  sem- 
blance of  civilization  abruptly  terminates  ;  before  us  lies  a 
land  without  railways,  without  roads,  without  fences,  hedges, 
trees  —  without  dividing  lines  of  any  kind,  save  long  low 
ranges  of  barren  hills  and,  in  the  eastern  distance,  the  crests 
of  savage  mountains.  Across  this  roadless  empire  we  are 
now  to  travel  for  many  days  ;  overhead  there  will  hang  at 
times  a  scorching  sun,  at  times  dark  storm-clouds  are  to  form 
our  canopy  ;  around  us  is  to  stretch  a  savage,  silent  land. 
Before  us  lies  a  scarcely  distinguishable  track,  worn  by  the 
hoofs  of  countless  '         *6i»»-.^       caravans    in    years 

that  are  un-  counted.     But 


for    me,   in 

,  ^  ,  -  -  1M 1111111110  THE   EDGE   OF   CIVILIZATION 

the    foreground  ^~~^— 

of  every  Moorish  landscape  looms  the  figure  of  Raid  Lharbi. 
All  day  I  looked  over  my  horse 's  ears  upon  Raid  Lharbi 's  back, 
his  horse's  tail,   and  his  cloak  of    blue,   his    broad-brimmed 


66 


INTO    MOROCCO 


hat,  such  as  are  made  and  worn  by 
the  women  of  Tetuan,  its  brim  so 
broad  that  colored  cords  are  required 
as  guy  ropes  to  sustain  it.  That 
famous  hat  served  both  as  a  parasol 
and  umbrella  ;  the  image  of  its  ex- 
pansive brim,  flapping  gaily  in  the 
breeze,  or  drooping  gloomily  beneath 
an  avalanche  of  water  from  the  skies, 
will  never  be  effaced  from  memory. 
All  day  I  looked  upon  that  hat  ;  at 


ACROSS  THE 
ROADLESS  PLAIN' 


"TWO   HARD-WORKING    HUMBLE  SOULS 


night  I  saw  it  in  my  dreams  ;  and,  at 
the  journey's  end,  I  acquired  it  by 
purchase,  and  it  now  hangs  upon  my 
wall, — a  mute  reminder  of  a  memor- 
able ride. 

Less  picturesquely  mounted,  less 
self-important  than  Kaid  Lharbi  but 
far  more  useful,  diligent,  and  kindly 
were  the  two  hard-working  humble 
souls    who    rode  on  little    burros   in 


" BOKHURMUR ' 


INTO    MOROCCO 


67 


THE   FIRST   HALTING   PLACE 


the  rear  of  the  procession.  On  them  devolved  the  hardest 
labors  of  the  journey  —  to  load  the  mules  ;  to  drive  or  guide 
them  all  day  long,  frequently  running  along  for  miles  on 
foot ;  to  help  or  urge  the  struggling,  overburdened  animals 
through  the  muddy  ditches  ;  to  unpack  everything  at  night, 
set  up  the  tents,  build  fires,  tether  and  find  forage  for  nine 
animals,  including  their  own  patient  little  donkeys  —  this 
formed  their  regular  daily  routine.  Yet  they  are  cheerful 
with  it  all,  although  sun  and  rain,  health  and  sickness,  must 
mean  the  same  to  them  ;  they  must  not  rest  on  pain  of  being 
left  behind.  Their  names,  as  near  as  it  was  possible  for  us  to 
grasp  them,  were  respectively,  Bokhurmur  and  Abuktayer, 
but  which  was  "  Abuktayer,  "  and  which  "  Bokhurmur  "  is  a 
point  upon  which  my  friend  and   I   could   never  quite  agree. 


DEVELOPING  OUR    CANVAS  VILLAGh 


68 


INTO    MOROCCO 


At  a  command  from  Haj,  the  caravan  has  halted.  "  We 
have  arrived,"  adds  Haj;  "unload!  pitch  camp  !  We  are 
where   we  should  be  at  five  o'clock." 

Here,  then,  is  to  be  our  first  camping-ground,  here  for  the 
first  time  we  are  to  see  our  outfit  set  up  in  its  entirety  ;  here 
we  are,  for  the  first  time,  to  sleep  in  tents  like  the  Bedouins  ; 


THE   FIRST  CAMP 


to  begin  the  new  life  that  promises  to  be  so  strange  and  fasci- 
nating. With  keenest  interest  we  watch  our  little  canvas 
village  develop.  At  first  we  attempt  to  aid  the  men,  but  Haj 
sternly  prohibits  all  effort  on  our  part.  It  is  not  consistent 
with  our  dignity  as  great  American  sci§'}/ciirs  to  stoop  to 
labor.  A  mattress  is  hastily  unpacked  and  spread  upon  the 
ground,  and  on  it  we  repose  in  lordly  laziness.  Had  we 
driven  a  single  tent-peg,  we  should  have  lost  completely  the 
respect  of  our  Oriental  hirelings. 

Three  tents  compose  the  camp  :  one  large  green  tent  of 
English  manufacture  for  the  grand  scig-jicurs,  two  Moorish 
tents,  for  the  accommodation  of  the  faithful  suite.  One  by 
one  the  canvas  houses  rise.       The  animals  are  tethered  close 


INTO    MOROCCO 


69 


at  hand.  From  the  neighboring  village,  ragged  men  bring 
fodder  for  the  animals,  eggs  and  chickens  for  the  foreign 
lords.  These  things,  of  course,  are  paid  for,  because,  our 
expedition  not  being  of  a  diplomatic  or  official  nature,  we  do 
not  enjoy  the  right  to  be  served  with  the  traditional 
"Mouna,  "  that  is,  we  cannot  levy  contributions  upon  the 
tribes.  Our  letters  of  recommendation  demand  for  us  merely 
the  protection  of  the  village  chiefs.  When  a  great  man,  be 
he  a  native  potentate  or  the  ambassador  of  a  foreign  nation, 
passes  through  the  land  in  state,  all  things  are  by  the  Sultan's 
command  furnished  him  gratis  by  the  people  of  each  bashalik, 
or  province.  As  the  villagers  gather  in  a  silent,  curious 
pyramid,  to  watch  with  deepest  interest  everything  we  do,  to 
examine  with  uncomprehending   eyes  our  mysterious   camp- 


A   SILENT,    CURIOUS    PYRAMID 


70 


INTO    MOROCCO 


beds,  our  folding  chairs  and  tables,  let  me  describe  another 
custom  that  is  observed  during  the  progress  of  an  official 
expedition. 

When  the  people  of  a  village  have  a  boon  to  ask  or  a 
favor  to  entreat  from  the  Sultan  at  Fez,  such  as  the  release 
from  prison  of  some  fellow  tribesman,  or  the  recall  of  some 
too  cruel  tax-extortioner,  a  deputation  of  villagers  comes  in 
procession  to  the  tent  of  the  great  man,  and  before  the 
entrance  sacrifices  a  heifer  or  a  sheep.  If  the  chief  or  the 
ambassador  is  inclined  to  grant  the  petition,  or  to  further 
the  purposes  of  the  suppliants,  he  accepts  the  gift  of  meat 
and  it  is  eaten  by  his  escort.  If  he  denies  their  request,  he 
averts  his  face  ;  no  man  is  permitted  to  touch  the  sacrifice, 
and  it  is  left  as  food  for  birds  of, prey. 

The  camp  arrangements  being  complete,  and  all  things 
made  ready  for  our  reception,  Haj  proudly  but  anxiously 
invites  our  inspection  of  the  interior  arrangements  of  our 
canvas  home.  "  Well  done,  Haj  Abd-er-Rahman  Salama  ! 
we  exclaim,  as  a  vision  of  coziness  and  comfort  is  revealed 
to  us.  Well  done,  indeed  !  No  wanderer  in  a  barbarous 
land  could  ask  for  more.  We 
behold  soft  beds  with  fresh 
white  sheets  and  pillow- 
cases,   bright  rugs    upon 


-   »-•  I 


wi  ni 

UNCOMPREHENDING  EYEs' 


INTO    MOROCCO 


73 


the  turf,  a  table  large  enough  for  two, 
well    spread  with  tempting  food,   and 
all  this  is  wholly  protected  from   the 
heat  and   cold  and  rain  and  wind  by 
a  tine  triple  tent,   green  without    and 
pink-lined  within,  just  like  a  luxurious 
boudoir.     And  now  this  is  to  be  our 
home    for   forty   long   delightful  days 
and  as  many  nights.      No  matter 
where  our  camp  may  happen  to 
lie,  on  the  barren  hillside,  in  the 
fertile  plain,  or  on  the  outskirts 
of  a  dirty  town,  this  cozy  corner 
will    be    always    the    same.       No 
matter  how  wild  and  hostile  are 
the  surrounding  scenes,  we  have 
but  to  draw  the  tent-flaps  close 
"HAj"  IN  JOY  to  find  ourselves  delightfully  chez 

7201CS.  And  furthermore,  we  are  just  as  well  served  as  in 
an  excellent  hotel,  for  although  we 
lack  the  convenient  electric-button, 
yet  we  have  a  perfect  substitute  in 
the  person  of  Achmedo  al  Hishu,  our 
valet,  groom,  and  butler.  Achmedo 
is  not  handsome,  but  he  is  indispens- 
able ;  he  is  always  at  hand,  answering 
a  call  before  it  is  made,  satisfying  a 
want  as  soon  as  it  is  felt.  He  speaks 
a  kind  of  Tangerine  servant  language  ; 
a  mixture  of  Spanish,  French,  and 
English,  startling  at  times,  but  always 
comprehensible.  His  one  fault  is  a 
fondness  for  the  pipe,  in  which  he 
smokes  —  not   comparatively  innocent 


ACHMEDO 


74 


INTO    MOROCCO 


tobacco  —  but  the  nerve-deadening  weed^  called  ' '  keef . 
Moreover,  we  observe  him  to  be  a  great  imbiber.  As  he 
rides  across  the  plain,  proudly  seated  on  the  summit  of  a 
baggage-pack  (beneath  which  the  poor  mule  is  scarcely 
visible),  Achmedo  may  be  seen  to  lift  a  bottle  reverently 
to  his  lips,  three  times  to  every  mile.  We  marveled  that  he 
could  preserve  his  equilibrium  day  after  day,  until  we  dis- 
covered the  nature  of  the  contents  of  that  bottle  —  cold  tea, 
flavored  with  mint  and  sugar. 

A  word  more  about  our  invaluable  Haj  Abd-er-Rahman 
Salama,  whose  dusky  face  reflects  the  anxiety  that  fills  his 
soul  as  he  awaits  our  verdict  upon  the  first  meal  prepared 
by  him.  He  claimed  to  be  himself  a  skillful  chef,  and 
insisted  that  he  be  allowed  to  manage  the  commissary 
department  without  interference.  We  reluctantly  intrusted 
our  gastronomic  welfare  to  this  homely  heathen,  and  through- 
out the  day  visions  of  hard-tack  and  rancid  bacon  haunted 
our  hungry  souls.  We  scarcely  dared  to  hope  for  better  fare, 
furnished,  as  it  was  to  be,  by  this  cunning  caterer,  who  has 
us  completely  in  his  power.  He  is  free  to  starve  or  stuff  us  ; 
no  power  can  touch  him  now.  If  he  prove  faithless,  we 
must    suffer ;    we  are    his   slaves    for    forty    days ;    he  is  our 


INTO    MOROCCO 


75 


master,  we  must  go  whither  he  leads,  for  we  are  in  an 
unknown  country  ;  we  must  eat  that  which  he  provides,  for 
we  are  in  an  empty  land. 

But  when  dinner  is  served,  we  enthusiastically  declare 
that  Haj  is  the  best  cook  south  of  Paris  ;  and  at  this  his 
handsome  features  are  convulsed  into  a  smile  of  proud  and 
happy  satisfaction.  The  dinner  served  on  that  first  evening 
in  our  camp  was  a  culinary  triumph  ;  a  perfect  little  table 
d'  bote  :  consomme'  ;  fish,  fresh  from  the  basket  of  a  Tangier 
fisherman  ;  sweetbread  croquettes  ;  broiled  chicken  ;  salad  ; 
blancmange,  cooled  in  a  neighboring  stream  ;  a  sip  of  Turkish 
coffee,  a  little  glass  of  benedictine,  and  then  a  cigarette.  All 
this  prepared  and  served  in  a  little  tent  pitched  far  from 
town  or  city  in  the  midst  of  the  somber  Moorish  plain.  How 
it  was  possible  for  Haj  to  turn  out  from  his  tiny  canvas 
kitchen,  and  with  his  crude  utensils,  dishes  so  varied  and 
delicious,  was  an  enduring  mystery  to  us,  but  we  fared  sump- 
tuously throughout  the  journey.  We  lived  in  greater  com- 
fort and  were  better  served  than  in  the  French  hotels  of 
Algeria  or  the  big  hotels  of  Spain,   and  we  dined  as  well  as 


JVER    IHE    RKD    HILL 


J6 


INTO    MOROCCO 


on  the  Paris  boulevards  ;  and  for  all  this,  we  paid  a  price 
ridiculously  low.  Haj  provided  the  entire  outfit,  —  two 
horses,  five  mules,  two  donkeys,  and  three  tents  ;  paid  wages 
to  three  servants,  baksheesh  to  the  military  escort,  furnished 
all  provisions,  cooked  for  us,  schemed  for  us,  guided  us, — all 
for  twelve  dollars  daily  and  a  present  at  the  journey's  end. 
Beyond  this  small  sum  we  spent  not  a  penny,  save  for  the 
purchase  of  some  little  souvenirs. 

On  the  second  morning,  dark,  lowering  clouds  obscure  the 
heavens  ;  yet,  despite  the  threat  of  a  stormy  day  we  break 
camp,  a  task  requiring  about  two  hours  of  hard  labor  for  our 
men.  Our  animals  are  loosed  and  roam  at  will,  browsing 
upon  the  fresh  sweet  clover.  The  men  of  the  neighboring 
village,  who  have  been  guarding  the  camp  since  evening, 
return  to  their  huts  at  daybreak  ;  all  night  they  sat  in  groups 
around  our  tents,  chanting  or  mumbling  prayers  to  keep 
themselves  awake.  We  reward  them  with  a  present  of  silver 
coins,  which  they  accept  with  greedy  eyes.  At  last,  the 
countless  things  pertaining  to  the  camp  being  all  stowed 
securely  in  the  broad  packs,  we  bid  farewell  to  our  first 
Morocco  halting-place  and  begin  what,  we  have  been  told, 
will  prove  the  most  disagreeable  stage  of  the  entire  journey  — 
the  crossing  of  the  Red  Hill ;  an 
experience  dreaded  by  all 
caravans,  especially  in 
rainy  weather.  And 
rightly  unpopular  is 
it,    this    trail    of 


NEVER    MOKE   THAN   TWENTY    MILES   A    DAY" 


INTO    MOROCCO 


17 


THE   CAMP   OF   THE   GOVERNOR 


broken  rock  and  slimy 
reddish  clay,  where  at 
every  step  our  horses  stumble  or  slip,  where  every  now 
and  then  a  pack  mule,  fixing  the  forefeet  firmly,  goes 
glissading  swiftly  down  the  hill,  until,  over-balanced  by  its 
enormous  burden,  it  literally  capsizes,  and  lies  helpless 
in  the  mire  while  the  crew  jettisons  the  cargo,  rights 
the  poor  hulk,  re-ballasts  it,  and  steers  it  down  the 
dangerous  channel,  using  the  tail  as  rudder  and  sharp- 
ened sticks  as  inspiration.  Frequent  heavy  downpours 
of  rain  add  to  our  discomfort,  drenching  us  to  the  skin 
and  threatening  to  shipwreck  our  hopes  of  reaching  camp 
with  tents  and  baggage  dry.  But  suddenly,  an  hour  after 
we  reach  the  plain,  the  sky  is  cleared  and  swept  com- 
pletely clean,  as  if  a  great  sponge  had  wiped  away  the  rain 
clouds  ;  and  then  a  beaming  sun  quickly  dries  men  and  ani- 
mals and  burdens,  causing  us  to  give  off  clouds  of  vapor  until 
we  can  scarcely  distinguish  one  another.  And  thus  we  jour- 
ney on,  never  faster  than  at  a  rapid  walk,  with  frequent 
delays  caused  by  the  breaking  of  a  strap,  the  balky  temper  of 
a  mule,  or  by  a  deep  ditch  difficult  to  ford.  We  cover  never 
more  than  twenty  miles  a  day.  At  midday  we  come  upon 
the  camp  of  the  Basha  of  Tangier,  and  near  it  we  make  a  halt 


78 


INTO    MOROCCO 


SUBJECTS   OF    THK    SKLTAN 


for  luncheon.     Haj  informs  us  that  the  Governor 
has  come   up   country  to   arrange  a  few  official 
robberies,    and    to   ad-         % 
minister  a  little  Moor- 
ish justice  —  a  peculiar 
quality  of   justice. 

The  collection  of 
taxes  is,  however,  the 
Basha  's  most  impor- 
tant business.  The 
taxpayers  are  assem- 
bled around  his  tent, 
and  pay  in  money,  in 
produce,  and  in  cattle.  The  assessment  varies  according 
to  the  visible  possessions  and  apparent  prosperity  of  the 
victim.  No  wise  subject  of  the  Moorish  Sultan  ever  boasts 
of  his  possessions.  All  feign  poverty  ;  for  every  man  is 
allowed  to  rob  the  man  who  is  next  in  rank  below  him. 
The  poor  man  who  can  find  no  poorer  man  to  rob  that  he 
may  pay  his  due,  is  the  one  who  suffers  most.  We  saw  a 
dozen  such  in  the  tent  at  the  Basha 's  camp,  chained  together, 
the  neck  of  each  locked  in  a  metal  collar  ;  the  whole  pro- 
cession was  to  be  marched  with  the  music  of  that  clank- 
ing chain  to  the  prison  at  Tangier,  many  miles  away. 

There  is  no  justice  in 
Morocco.       The    head- 
man   of    a    village 
squeezes  all  he  can  out 
of  the  nothing  that  his 
people  have  ;   the  chief 
man  of  the  district 
levies  on  the  village 
headman  ;  the  chief 
pays  tribute   to  the 

PRISONERS 


INTO    MOROCCO 


79 


Governor ;  the  Governor  cannot  expect  to  hold  his  office 
unless  magnificent  presents  are  annually  sent  to  some  grand 
vizier  of  the  court  at  Fez  ;  and  every  now  and  then  we  hear 
of  the  downfall  of  a  grand  vizier,  who  has  waxed  wealthy, 
boasted  of  his  possessions,  excited  the  cupidity  of  his  sacred 
Sultan  and  paid  the  penalty,  either  by  suffering  the  confisca- 
tion of  his  fortune  and  then  exile,  or  perhaps  by  drinking, 
at  the  command  of  the  all-holy  Emperor,  a  little  glass 
of   poiso::cd  tea. 


ALCAZAR-EL-KEBIR 


We  one  day  tendered  in  payment  for  provisions  a  Spanish 
dollar  somewhat  dim  and  dark.  It  was  refused.  "Give  me 
bright  shining  money, ' '  said  the  man  who  had  supplied  us 
with  eggs  and  milk.  "That  dark  coin  looks  as  if  it  had  been 
buried  ;  if  I  attempt  to  pass  it,  the  chief  will  send  his  men  to 
dig  around  and  underneath  my  house,  to  see  if  I  have  more 
concealed  beneath  the  floors  or  in  the  ground  outside.  " 

Next  day  after  our  meeting  with  the  Basha,  we  reach  the 
first  interior  city  of  any  considerable  size,  Alcazar-el-Kebir. 


8o 


INTO    MOROCCO 


"Alcazar  the  Great,"  its  inhabitants  proudly  entitle  it,  and 
in  its  time  it  has  been  great.  Here  there  were  fitted  out,  in 
the  eighth  century,  the  expeditions  that  went  forth  to  con- 
quer Spain  and  Europe.  Later  it  was  taken  and  held  by  the 
Portuguese  until  that  fatal  day  in  1578,  when,  on  the  battle- 
field not  far  from  the  city  gates,  the  very  flower  of  the 
chivalry  of  Portugal  fell  before  the  fearful  onslaught  of  the 
Moorish  foe.  At  Alcazar,  Portugal  received  the  death-blow 
of  her  greatness.  Before  the  loss  of  Alcazar  Portugal  was 
one  of  the  world 's  great  powers.  This  terrible  defeat  was  the 
beginning  of  the  end. 

The  city  is  unlike  all  other  cities  of  the  interior,  for  it  was 
built  by  the  Portuguese.  It  is  not  white,  as  are  the  Moorish 
cities,  but  all  in  dull  greys,  browns,  and  soiled  and  dingy  yel- 
lows. In  the  bazaar  we  purchase  more  Moorish  clothing — - 
long  white  garments,  far  cooler  than  our  riding-suits,  and 
upon  returning  in  our  new  attire  to  the  camp,  we  are  greeted 
effusively  by  a  dusky  gentleman  who  introduces  himself  as  the 
Consular    Agent    of    the    United    States.      Unfortunately  his 


A    THOROUGHFARE 


THE  SULTAN   MULAI    EL-HASAN   IN  TANGIER 


INTO    MOROCCO 


83 


\VH  PTRCHASK  MORE 
MOORISH    CLOTHING 


kindly    words    are     all 

Arabic,  of  which  we  do 

not  understand  a  word. 

Nevertheless  Mr.  Ham- 
man     Slawi     convinces 

us  of  his  good-will   by 

presenting    us    with    a 

pair  of  yellow  slippers, 

and  manifests  his  ad- 
miration  by    sitting   in 

our  tent  and  looking 

at  us  intently  for  just 

two    hours    and  a 

half.      Long    calls 

are  the  custom    in    Morocco,    and    when    Mr.    Slawi     finally 

departed,    he    left    his    son,    a    (at    little    chap,    to    continue 

staring  at  us  so  that 
we  might  not  feel  neg- 
lected. And  when  the 
boy  was  finally  in- 
duced to  go,  the  father 
sent  the  local 
s  y  m  p  h  o  n  y 
orchestra  to 
serenade  u  s 
in  the  gloam- 
ing, with  two 
insistent 
drums  and  an 
exasperating 
fiute. 


W 


e   are 


compelled  to 
give    these 


MR.    HAMMAN   SLAWI,    U.    S.    CONSULAR    AGENT 


84 


INTO    MOROCCO 


cacophonic  tormentors  a  present  to  bring  the  concert  to  an 
end.  A  present,  by  the  way,  is  an  important  element  in 
every  Moorish  proposition.  Presents  are  the  lubricating 
medium  used  in  the  social  and  political  machinery  of  this 
ancient  empire.  Acting  upon  the  advice  of  former  travelers, 
we  have  brought  with  us  many  gifts  for  the  kaids  or  sheiks 
or    bashas  who    show  us  kindness,    or  from    whom   we   may 


S"' 


desire  to  obtain  favors.  A  dozen  Waterbury  watches  are 
reserved  for  the  men  who  are  very  great  ;  for  lesser  nota- 
bilities we  carry  other  presents,  among  them,  strange  to  say, 
all  sorts  of  little  toys,  like  jumping  jacks,  kaleidoscopes, 
and  automatic  animals.  These  are  not  intended  for  the 
children,  but  for  full-grown  men,  hoary-headed  chieftains 
who  have  a  passion  for  such  novelties.  The  Moors  are  at 
heart  big  children,  with  all  the  simplicity,  deceitfulness,  and 
passion  of  real  children. 


INTO    MOROCCO 


>S 


And,  like  unfeeling  children,  these  people  are  often 
thoughtlessly  cruel.  They  appear  not  to  notice  the  wounds 
caused  by  the  heavy,  ill-adjusted  harness  of  the  pack  mules, 
or  the  ugly  cut  made  by  the  brutal  bit  in  the  mouth  of  Kaid 
Lharbi's  faithful  horse.  When  we  remonstrated  w-ith  our 
men  about  this  useless  cruelty,  they  answered  that  the  ani- 
mals are  ' '  used  to  it  ;  "  that  it  is  the  custom  of  the  country 
for  mules  to  have  raw^  backs  and  horses  bleeding  jaws.  The 
Moslem  firmly  believes  that  "whatever  is,  is  right  ;  "  and  we 
console  ourselves  with  the  assurance  of  the  classic  author 
who  asserts  that  " '  the  souls  of  usurers  are  metempsy- 
chosed,  or  translated,  into  the  bodies  of  asses,  and  there 
remain  certain  years  for  poor  men  to  take  their  pennyworth 
out  of  their  bones." 

Later  in  the  day  we  met  with  a  curious  experience.     As  we 
began  the  descent  into  a  broad  valley,  we  saw  approaching 


TRAVELING   THIS   KIGHT    HOIKS   KVKRV    PAY 


86 


INTO    MOROCCO 


us  another  caravan.  \\'hen  it 
drew  near,  we  discovered,  with 
pleased  surprise,  that  the  man 
who  rode  in  front  was  clothed 
in  coat  and  trousers,  evidently  a  European,  a  man  from 
our  own  world,  perhaps  the  only  other  white-skinned  trav- 
eler in  the  land.  We  shook  off  the  lethargy  that  results 
from  a  long  morning  in  the  saddle,  and  prepared  to  greet 
the  stranger  with  smiles  and  questions,  eager  to  give 
news  of  the  living  world  to  one  who  must  have  been  buried 
for  at  least  many  days  in  this  roadless  land,  eager  to  send 
back  by  him  messages  to  the  consul  in  Tangier.  Nearer  he 
comes  and  nearer,  but  as  yet  he  makes  no  sign.  Imagine, 
then,  our  blank  dismay  when  the  caravans  pass  one  another 
on  this  narrow  trail  amid  the  yellow  grain,  and  the  stranger 
- — a  German  merchant,  as  we  learned  afterward  —  rides  past 
with  his  Teutonic  nose  high  in  air,  without  a  side  glance  or  a 
nod,   without  the  slightest  sign  of  recognition  in  answer  to 


INTO    MOROCCO 


87 


our  smiles  ;  for  so  astonished  were  we  that  we  could  not  speak. 
This  exhibition  of  boorishness,  I  fear,  gave  our  Moslem  fol- 
lowers a  sad  notion  of  the  love  and  good-fellowship  existing 
between  man  and  man  in  the  world  of  unbelievers. 

After  receiving  this  cut-direct,  we  ride  on  across  the  grand 
free  landscape,  its  lines  unbroken  by  trees  or  houses,  where 
grain  grows  wild  and  rots  unharvested.  In  Roman  times 
Morocco  was  the  granary  of  Europe  ;  to-day  the  Moorish 
authorities  prohibit  the  exportation  of  all  grain.  "It  is  not 
meet,  "  they  say,  "that  the  unbeliever  should  be  nourished 
by  the  labor  of  the  faithful." 

Thus  our  days  pass  until,  on  the  lifth  morning  of  the 
journey,  we  halt  in  a  delightful  garden  on  the  outskirts  of  the 
city  of  Wazzan.  The  word  "  Wazzan  "  perhaps  means 
nothing  to  a  stranger,  but  to  a  Moorish  Moslem  it  is  second 


INTO    MOROCCO 


only  to  Mecca  in  sacred  significance  ; 
for  as  Mecca  was  the  home  of 
Mohammed,  the  great  prophet, 
so  Wazzan  is  the  home  of 
the  grand  Shareef,  the  most 
direct  descendant  of  Mo- 
hammed, the  most  revered 
personage  in  all  Morocco. 
A  connection,  however  re- 
mote, with  the  prophet  s  line 
is  a  relationship  that  insures  the 
respectful  consideration  of  every 
Mohammedan.  To  be  the  most  direct 
descendant,  the  grandson-many-times- 
removed  of  Fatima,  the  prophet's  daughter  and  Ali,  his 
favorite  disciple,  is  to  take  precedence  over  Emperors  and 
Sultans  in  the  sight  of  every  true  believer.  And  thus  the 
Shareef  of  Wazzan,  upon  whose  holy  city  we  now  cast  our 
profane    glance,    is    a    greater,   holier    man    than    either    the 

Sultan  of  Turkey  or  the  Sultan 
of  Morocco. 

True,  these  two  emperors 
trace  their  ancestry  back  to  the 
same  sacred  source  ;  but  many 
true    believers    call  his  Turkish 


DRUDGERY 


A  WEI  I 

IN  THE  GARDEN  NEAR  WAZZAN 


INTO    MOROCCO 


89 


majesty  a  renegade  and  backslider,  while  the  family-tree  of 
the  Moorish  Sultan  has  been  so  bent  and  twisted,  and  its 
branches  have  been  so  rudely  hacked  and  broken  by  revolu- 
tions, wars,  and  crimes  that  a  majority  of  his  subjects  look 
askance  upon  his  pretensions  as  Commander  of  the  Faithful. 
Many  of  them  secretly,  some  openly,  acknowledge  the 
Shareef  of  Wazzan  not  only  as  the  spiritual  head  of  the 
Empire,  ^^ — — — —  "       —         ,.^  but  als 


THE   SACRED   CITY   OF   WAZZA> 


its  rightful  temporal  lord.  Fortunately  for  the  internal  peace 
of  the  land  the  Shareefs  have  been  content  to  exercise  imperial 
power  by  suggestion,  to  receive  tithes  in  lieu  of  taxes,  and  to 
leave  to  the  Sultan  and  his  ministers  at  Fez  the  vexatious 
details  of  the  government  and  the  semblance  of  absolute 
authority.  So  sacred  is  this  city  of  Wazzan,  so  fanatical 
are  its  inhabitants,  that  we  dared  not  enter  its  gates  until  a 
military  escort  sent  by  the  Shareef  came  to  conduct  us  to  the 
home  assigned  us  as  a  residence  by  that  sainted  potentate. 


90 


INTO    MOROCCO 


It  cost  our  servants  several  hours'  labor  to  clean  the 
mansion  and  make  it  habitable.  In  the  meantime,  with 
Haj  as  interpreter  and  Kaid  Lharbi  to  lend  dignity  to  our 
party,  we  were  escorted  by  a  half-dozen  ragged  soldiers  to 
the  Shareef's  palace,  which  gleams  white  in  the  midst  of 
green  gardens.  There  we  were  received  with  high-bred 
dignity  and  more  than  ordi- 
nary cordiality  by  the  man 
as    has    been    said,    is 


THE    MARKET-PLACE 


revered,  from   Morocco  to  Madras,  as  the  holiest  and  greatest 
representative  of  Islamism. 

We  found  the  Shareef  seated  on  soft  cushions  beneath 
a  white  pavilion  in  the  midst  of  a  luxuriant  garden.  Around 
him  courtiers  were  grouped  ;  old  men  with  long,  white 
beards,  young  men  with  fierce,  hard  faces  —  chiefs  of  the 
neighboring  tribes.  The  Shareef,  a  handsome  man,  black- 
bearded  and  completely  robed  in  simple  veils  of  white,  bore 
his  thirty-five  years  with  dignity,  despite  a  suggestion  of 
indolence,  almost  of  letharg}^  in  his  manner.  Haj  approached 
on  hands  and  knees  and  kissed  the  Shareef's  garments.  We 
bowed  and  took  the  chairs   which  had  been  placed  for  our 


INTO    MOROCCO 


91 


comfort  just  outside  the  pavil 
ion.      The  dialogue  ensuing 
between    our    host    and 
guide   was   deliberate, 
cordial,    and    much   em- 
broidered   with    compli- 
ments,    as    is    the     custom 
here  in  good  society.      We, 
through    our   spokesman, 
thanked  his  holiness  for  his 
hospitality.       He   apologizes 
for    the    condition    of    our 
house. 

Haj  is  instructed  to  ex- 
press our  complete  satisfac- 
t  i  o  n  .  He  translates  our 
crude  reply  with  Moorish 
tact  and  delicacy  :  ' '  My 
masters,  O  Shareef , "  he 
says,    "bid  me  declare  that 


OUR        PALACE        IN   WAZZAN 


Fa=c= 


'the  shareef's  palace,  white  in  the  .midst  of  green  gardens' 


92 


INTO    MOROCCO 


to  see  thy  face  is  so  great 
joy  that  they  have  no 
thought  of  minor  things  ; 
illuminated  by  the  light 
of  thy  face,  the  house 
becomes  a  palace,  grand- 
er than  their  own  palaces 
in  foreign  lands.  "  And 
this  sort  of  thing  is  actu- 
ally taken  seriously  in 
Morocco!  Then,  re- 
membering that  the  pre- 
sentation of  gifts  is  now 
in  order,  Haj  continues  : 
"O  Shareef,  so  grateful 
are  my  masters  for  thy 
kindness  that  they  beg 
thee  to  accept  a  humble 
present.  The  youth 
^\•ho  wears  no  beard 
gladly  parts  with  his 
precious  timepiece,  the 
gift  of  his  father,  much  prized  by  him,  but  still  scarcely 
worthy  thine  acceptance."  Whereupon  my  friend,  with 
feigned  reluctance,  detaches  from  his  watch-chain  one  of  our 
stock  of  \\'aterburys,  and,  as  if  it  had  been  a  gold  chron- 
ometer, an  heirloom  in  the  family,  lays  it  at  the  feet  of  Holi- 
ness. Holiness  graciously  accepts  the  gift,  and  although  he 
remarks  upon  the  absence  of  a  chain,  is  apparently  well 
pleased.  We  are  glad  that  he  does  not  know  that  we  have 
still  nine   "  Waterbury  heirlooms"  left  in  stock. 

The  interview  being  over,  we  return  to  our  residence  to 
find  our  men  indulging  in  their  daily  tipple  —  tea.  Kaid 
Lharbi,  sitting  aloof  as  befits  his  higher  rank,  brews  the  tea, 


AT  HOME  IN   THE  SHAREEF'S   CITY 


INTO    MOROCCO 


95 


and  serves  it  with  much  ceremony  to  the  rest.  Meantime 
Haj  gives  us  some  information  regarding"  the  Shareefs  of 
Wazzan.  The  present  saint  is,  he  assures  us,  a  very  proper 
personage,  but  his  late  father  who  owed  his  title  to  a  clever 
ruse,  was  a  scandal  to  the  holy  name.  When  his  immediate 
predecessor  was  upon  his  deathbed,  his  ministers  implored 
him  to  designate  which  of  his  many  children  should  succeed 
him.  The  old  man  answered:  "In  the  garden  you  will  find 
a  child  playing  with  my  staff.  Him  shall  ye  consider  the  one 
chosen  of  God  to  become  Shareef . ' '  At  this,  one  of  the 
negresses,  a  slave,  slipped  secretly  from  the  room,  and  find- 
ing in  the  garden  the  favorite  white  child  of  the  djdng  saint, 
snatched  away  from  the  little  one  the  staff,  and  placed  it  in 
the  hands  of  her  own  little  boy,  a  jet-black  imp,  who  also  had 
the  right  to  call  the  Shareef  father.  When  the  ministers 
appeared,  they  bowed  low  before  the  negro  child,  and  upon 
him  the  mantel  of  impeccability  descended;  but  whoever  has 
gazed  upon  him  as  he  appeared  in  later  years  will  not  wonder 
that  the  mantle  of  impeccability  was  not  worn  gracefully,  and 
that  it  frequently  slipped  off.  The  charm  of  European  life 
appealed  too  strongly  to 
him.  He  forsook  Waz- 
zan, and  built  for  him- 
self a  palace  in  Tangier, 
where    he    wined    and 


THKIR    DAILY   TIPPLE- 


96 


INTO    MOROCCO 


dk 


THE    I. ATE   LAMENTED 
SHAREEF    OK   WAZZAN 


dined  the  foreign  diplomats,  and  ended  by 
falling  in  love  with  an  English  governess. 
As  to  his  liking  for  liquor,  that  sin  was  for- 
given him,  since  wine  cannot  enter  the 
mouth  of  a  Shareef  —  it  turns  to  water  at 
the  merest  touch  of  saintly  lips.  As  to  his 
love-affair,  that  was  more  serious  ;  for  he 
married  his  English  sweetheart,  to  the 
horror  of  his  people  and  despite  the  pro- 
tests of  the  woman 's  friends.  The  mar- 
riage was  not  performed,  however,  until  he  had  been  forced 
to  sign  a  contract,  abolishing  his  harem,  and  making  her 
his  wife  in  a  Christian  sense.  Moreover,  one  clause  pro- 
vided that  should  he,  "  the  party  of  the  first  part,  "  in  spite 
of  all   take   to    himself  other  wives  in  the  future,  a  forfeit  of 

twenty  thousand  dollars 
should  be  paid,  per  wife, 
to  ' '  the  party  of  the 
second  part."  Alas, 
how  many  thousands  of 
his  great  income  went 
to  balance  this  account, 
so  rashly  opened  with 
his  Christian  spouse! 
After  a  brief  spell  of  good 
behavior,  the  husband 
fell  back  into  his  old 
ways  ;  marriages  occur- 
red with  startling  fre- 
quency, and,  finally  worn 
out  by  his  excesses,  the 
"  holiest  man  in  all  Mo- 
rocco, "  revered  by  Mos- 
lems   from    the    east    to 


IN   CONVERSATION    WITH    KAID    LHARBI 


INTO    MOROCCO 


97 


the  west  of  Islam,  died  from  the  effects  of  too  frequently 
performing  his  favorite  miracle  —  that  of  changing  cham- 
pagne and  brandy  into  water  by  pouring  them  between  his 
sacred  lips. 

The  English  wife  of  the  wicked  old  Shareef  bore  him  two 
sons,  now  young  men.  They  have  been  educated  abroad, 
speak  English  well,  and  are  distinctly  up  to  date.  Yet  when 
they  travel  in  Mo-      ^,  -  '^'""  '""  rocco     they    wear 

the     native     .„,-' '  --  ^      (I  r  e  s  s  ,    a  n  d 

their   jour-  y-^  ''v     ney  is    like 

phal  pro- 
all  the 


people 
them.      I 


large    crowds 


worship 

have   seen 

in  Tangier 

fighting    only   for  ^^^■Wl^^**^  the   opportunity 

to  kiss  their  gar-  "  rids  us  brgonk"  ments    as    they 

rode  through  the  market-place.  Neither,  however,  became 
grand  Shareef  on  their  father's  death,  for  he  appointed 
Sidi  Mohammed,  his  son  by  a  Moorish  wife,  the  man  to 
whom  we  gave  the  Waterbury  watch.  The  English  widow 
lives  a  very  secluded  life  near  Oran,  in  Algeria,  but  she 
is  loved  and  revered  by  the  Moors  ;  for  while  her  in- 
fluence endured,  she  went  about  doing  good,  relieving  dis- 
tress, bringing  a  little  Anglo-Saxon  light  into  the  dark  lives 
of  her  people. 


98 


INTO    MOROCCO 


And  dark  indeed  must  be  the  lives  of  the  people  in  the 
villages  near  which  we  pitch  our  camp.  Perhaps  a  woman 
would,  with  great  vehemence,  bid  us  begone,  lamenting  the 
desolation  that  will  surely  come  to  her  village  if  the  strangers 
camp  under  the  protection  of  its  chief.  Her  reason  is  that 
should  we  meet  with  loss  from  the  attack  of  some  wandering 
band  of  marauders,  this  village  will  be  held  responsible,  and 


Nd 

iL 

^,., 

F*^^ 

vi 

[II 

L    '  %l 

'^  jf^^ 

H 

B 

bvs 

i  Hi 

I 


"YET    FLOWERS   AND    BABIES   GROW    IN   THESE    MOORISH    VILLAGES" 

punishment  for  offenses  committed  against  us  will  be  visited 
upon  those  who,  by  the  sacred  laws  of  hospitality,  are  bound 
to  protect  us. 

But  disregarding  prayers  and  threats  we  make  ourselves  at 
home  ;  and  finally  the  women,  reconciled,  come  with  their 
babies  to  beg  for  aid  and  medical  advice.  Every  white  man 
is  supposed  to  possess  the  power  to  cure  disease,  and  many 
were  the  pitiful  appeals  made  to  us  for  relief  and  help.      We 


INTO    MOROCCO 


99 


ON  THE  LOOKOUT  FOR  ADVKNTURE 


were  asked  to  treat  all  kinds  of  maladies, 
but  we  discovered  one  unique  and  hitherto 
unknown  ailment  :  ' '  What  is  your  trouble  ? ' ' 
was  asked  of  a  man  who  came  with  sad- 
ness written  on  his  face.  "Oh!  "  he 
replied,  "  I  cannot  eat  as  much  as  I 
should  like  to.  "  Poverty  and  ignorance 
are  the  common  lot,  yet  fiowers  and 
babies  grow  in  these  Moorish  villages. 
We  have  now  approached  a  por- 
tion of  the  Beni  Hasan  territory,  a 
region  inhabited  by  a  tribe  whose  chief 
pursuit  is  robbery,  whose  supreme  joy  is 
murder  ;  and  the  placing  of  a  guard  around 
the  tent  is  no  longer  a  mere  formality.  As  yet,  however,  we 
have  seen  no  roving  bands  ;  but  next  day  as  we  file  across 
the  flower-spotted  plain,  we  observe  on  the  horizon  a 
number  of  moving  patches  of  bright  color.  With  lightning- 
like rapidity,  these  flashes  of  color  sweep  toward  us,  each 
one  resolving  itself  into  a  Moorish  cavalier,  well  mounted, 
fully  armed,  and  seemingly  upon  the  lookout  for  adven- 
ture. These,  then,  are  Beni  Hasan  men  !  What  will  they 
do  to  us  and  how  shall  we  greet  them  ?  is  our  anxious 
thought,  as  they  draw  nearer,  brandishing  their  rifles,  shout- 
ing as  they  ride.  The  first  brief  moment  of  alarm  is,  how- 
ever, quickly  ended.  The  chief  salutes  us  cordially  ;  asks 
Haj  whence  we  come,  whither  we  are  going  ;  and  then, 
desirous  of  showing  honor  to  us  ( for  foreign  travelers  are 
always  looked  upon  as  men  of  great  distinction),  he  offers  to 
perform  for  us  a  fantasia.  The  fantasia  is  an  exhibition  of 
Arabian  horsemanship,  a  sort  of  glorified  cavalry-charge,  a 
spectacular  manceuver,  the  favorite  amusement  of  the  Moor- 
ish cavalier,  the  exercise  in  which  he  takes  most  pleasure  and 
most  pride.      It  is  called  by  him  lab-al-baroud,  *'  the  powder 


A    SON   OP"    HASAN 


loo  INTO    MOROCCO 

play.  '  A  dozen  cavaliers,  each 
one  a  savage,  long-haired  son 
of  Hasan,  advance  across  the 
plain,  their  horses  alined, 
breast  with  breast.  They 
twirl  aloft  their  richly  inlaid 
guns;  then,  putting  their 
chargers  to  their  fullest  speed, 
the  riders  rise  in  the  stirrups, 
seize  the  reins  between  their 
teeth,  and  sweep  toward  us  in 
swift  majesty.  On  go  the  horses  at 
full  gallop,  still  accurately  in  line.  Faster 
and  faster  spin  the  guns  above  the  riders'  heads  ;  now 
muskets  are  tossed  high  in  air,  and  descending  are  caught 
by  strong  bronzed  hands  that  never  fail.  On  go  the  horses  ; 
then  the  men,  still  standing  in  the  stirrups,  their  loose 
garments  enveloping  them  like  rapid-flying  clouds,  at  a  signal 
discharge  a  rousing  volley,  and  under  cover  of  the  smoke, 
check  —  almost  instantaneously  with  the  cruel  bits  —  their 
panting  horses,  bloody-mouthed  and  deeply  scarred  and 
wounded  by  the  spurs.  This  intensely  thrilling  and  pictur- 
esque performance  is  rehearsed  before  us  several  times,  the 
chief  being  proud  of  his  little  band  of  "rough  riders." 
The  men  disdainfully  examine  our  English  saddles,  our 
horses  with  docked  tails,  and  laugh  at  our  tiny  spurs,  for  their 
spurs  are  sharp  spikes  three  or  four  inches  long.  They  mock- 
ingly challenge  us  to  join  them  in  another  fantasia,  and  to  the 
amazement  of  the  chief  my  friend  accepts  the  challenge.  The 
long  muzzle-loading  rifles  are  charged  again,  and  the  entire 
troop,  with  an  American  in  its  midst,  slowly  canters  away. 
Facing  about,  the  horsemen  form  in  line  and  begin  to  twirl 
their  guns  on  high.  Having  no  rifle,  the  stranger  draws  and 
flourishes  an  American  revolver.      Then,  suddenly,  the  horses 


INTO    MOROCCO 


lOI 


3eap  away,  and  like  a  whirlwind  the  fantasia  is  upon  us.  The 
muskets  are  discharged;  the  revolver  pops  away,  and  then  a 
mad  race  begins.  Strange  to  say,  the  Tangier  horse  outruns 
the  chargers  of  the  plains,  and  we  see  the  white  helmet  of  the 
American  flash  past,  one  length  in  advance  of  the  line  of 
frenzied  horsemen! 

Chagrined  at  this  defeat,  the  chief  attempts  to  unseat  the 
victor,  charging  directly  at  my  friend,  who,  by  a  skillful  move- 
ment, avoids  a  dangerous  collision.  Then,  spurring  after 
that  boasting  Beni  Hasan  tribesman,  the  American  overtakes 
him,  and  throws  an  arm  around  his  neck;  and,  as  they  dash 
on,  locked  in  this  embrace,  my  friend,  with  a  voice  that  was 
trained  in  the  Athletic  Field  at  New  Haven,  shouts  a  rousing 
"Rah,  Rah,  Rah  !  —  Yale  !  '  into  the  ear  of  the  astonished 
savage,  and  thus  ends  our  adventure  with  the  wild  Beni 
Hasan   band. 


A   NOONDAY 
RESTING-PLACL 


I02 


INTO    MOROCCO 


Reassured  by  the  amusing  outcome  of  this  iirst  encounter, 
we  ride  on  toward  our  noonday  halting-place.  Our  marches 
are  so  timed  that  at  midday  we  may  iind  ourselves  near  some 
patch  of  shade.  Shade  in  Morocco  is  rare  indeed,  but  as 
every  tree  and  bush  between  Tangier  and  Fez  is  marked  on 
Haj's  mental  map,  we  are  usually  assured  of  leafy  shelter 
during:  our  noondav  rest.      Throug:hout  the  burning:  hours  from 


t^Sf-  > './ f       / 


HAPPY    MOMENTS    FOR    THE    MULES 


noon  till  three  or  four  o'clock,  we  lie  at  full  length  amid  the 
flowers,  carefully  following  the  shadows  as  they  slowly  creep 
around  the  trees.  The  animals,  relieved  of  pack,  though  not 
of  saddle,  browse  dreamily,  or  roll  in  ecstasy  amid  the  fragant 
grasses.  Our  men  with  Oriental  resignation  lunch  frugally,  sit 
and  smoke  in  silence,  or  indulge  in  semi-slumber,  with  one  eye 
open  lest  the  mules  escape.  Then,  after  the  sun's  rays  have 
lost  a  little  of  their  torrid  sting,  we  jog  on  once  more  in  the  com- 
parative coolness  of  the  afternoon  across  the  Moorish  prairies. 


INTO    MOROCCO  105 

Space  in  Morocco  is  still  a  stern  reality.  The  city  Fez, 
to  reach  which  we  must  travel  thus  during  eleven  days,  could 
be  reached  by  rail  (were  there  a  railway  leading  thither)  in  a 
half-dozen  hours!  Apropos  of  this,  let  me  repeat  a  scrap  of 
wayside  conversation. 

"Morocco  is  indeed  a  spacious  country,  "  said  I  one  day  to 
dignified  Kaid  Lharbi. 

"It  is  the  biggest  country  in  the  world,"  gravely  replied 
the  Kaid.  Then  gently  I  endeavored  to  disabuse  his  mind  of 
this  impression  by  telling  of  the  vastness  of  the  territory  of  the 
United  States. 

"But  how  long  does  it  take  to  cross  your  country.'"  he 
inquired. 

' '  We  travel  four  days  in  fast  trains  to  go  from  San  Fran- 
cisco to  New  York,  "  I  answered. 

"  Bah!  that  is  nothing,  "  rejoined  our  military  escort  with 
a  sneer  of  triumph.  "To  go  from  Taiilet  in  the  south  to 
Tangier  in  the  north,  the  fastest  caravan  must  travel  forty 
days.  You  see  Morocco  is  the  biggest  country  in  the 
world  ! 

Nor  can  we  blame  him  for  his  opinion,  for  the  land  looks 
boundless.  The  grand,  free  lines  of  the  Moorish  landscape 
are  unbroken  ;  no  trees,  no  houses,  no  hedges,  and  no  high- 
ways are  there  to  spoil  the  composition  of  the 
picture  drawn  and  painted  by  the  master 
artist,  Nature.  The  country,  although  fertile, 
is  uncultivated.  The  horizon  seems  wider 
than  in  other  lands.  Apparently 
there  is  no  end,  no  limit  to  the 
landscape.  We  know  that  beyond 
each  range  of  hills  there  will  be 
revealed  a  replica  of  this  primeval 
picture.  One  scene 
like    this   will    sue- 


io6 


INTO    MOROCCO 


"  SPACE,    IN 


IS   STILL   A   STERN   REALITY" 


ceed  another  with  scarce  an  interruption  until  the  minarets 
of  Fez  shall  cut  their  square  majestic  outlines  against  the 
southern   sky. 

Who  can  describe  the  floral  beauty  of  these  boundless 
prairies  ?  —  who  except  Pierre  Loti  ?  It  was  his  dainty  vol- 
ume, "  Au  Maroc,  "  that  inspired  me  with  a  desire  to  follow 
him  into  Morocco.  When  I  was  reading  his  beautiful  de- 
scriptions of  the  floral  mosaic  that  covers  both  the  plains  and 
hillsides  of  the  land,  I  could  not  easily  accept  as  true  the 
seemingly  exaggerated  assertions  of  the  author  ;  his  glowing 
word-pictures  of  an  "  empire  carpeted  with  flowers.  "  Yet  he 
spoke  truly,  and  as  I  rode  across  these  broad  stretches  of 
pure  white,  where  marguerites  in  all  their  modest  loveliness 
lie  thick  upon  the  greensward,  I  knew  that  I  had  seen  it  all 
before  —  seen  it  upon  his  printed  page,  as  real,  as  beautifully 
vivid  as  it  is  to  me  to-day.     To  visit   Morocco  after  reading 


INTO    MOROCCO 


107 


Pierre  Loti  is  like  returning  to  a  land  that  is  familiar,  to  a 
land  already  seen,  to  a  land  the  charm  of  which  has  been 
revealed   in  the    magic  pages  of  his  poetic  prose: 

"For  miles  and  miles  this  bundle  of  narrow  intersecting 
trails,  the  only  Imperial  Highway  of  the  Sultan  of  Morocco, 
leads  us  on  through  a  veritable  garden  —  between  intermin- 
able flower-beds.  Our  foreground  is  at  times  pure  white,  at 
others  purple  with  a  sea  of  iris  flowers,  at  others  scarlet  with 
the  blood  of  anemones,  at  others  yellow  with  the  golden 
glory  of  the  buttercups  and  daisies.  The  mountain  slopes 
and  hillsides  meanwhile  reflect  the  many  colors  of  the  spec- 
trum. It  is  as  if  some  gorgeous  rainbow,  shattered  in  the 
Moorish  heaven,  had  fallen  upon  the  deserted  hills  and  val- 
leys of  this  savage,  silent  land.  It  is  as  if  the  divine  Artist 
had  resolved  to  make  this  wilderness  the  palette  from 
which  to  take   the    colors  for   all    future    landscapes.      It    is 


ir.    vlOKLD  " 


io8 


INTO    MOROCCO 


as  if  the  sunset  of  the  day  before  was  lingering  here  to  meet 
the  sunset  of  the  morrow.  It  is  as  if  Almighty  Allah  had 
selected  the  Empire  of  Moghreb  for  his  sanctuary,  and  had 
spread  out  upon  its  sacred  l^oor  a  prayer-rug  of  unutterable 
beauty,  woven  by  the  divine  looms  —  a  carpet  of  heavenly 
design    to   inspire   man   to  fall   upon   his  knees   and  pray." 

This  is  our  life  during  ten  delightful,  never-to-be-forgotten 
days.  All  day  we  journey  southward,  pausing  at  noon  "  mid- 
way 'twixt  here  and  there  ;  "  at  night  we  arrive,  as  my  friend 
expressed  it,  at  ' '  nowhere  in  particular, ' '  and  in  the  glow  of 
the  sunset  we  pitch  our  little  camp.  Then,  when  the  even- 
ing   fire     is    lighted,    the    encircling    night     grows    blacker, 


AN    EMPIRE    CARPETED   WITH    FLOWERS 


INTO  MOROCCO 


109 


the  sur- 
rounding 
d  a  r  k  n  e  s ; 
become 
protecting  wall, 
and  we  feel  almost  secure.  Our  animals  are  hobbled  in  a 
row  before  the  tent,  each  with  a  heap  of  fresh  green  grass  or 
clover.  They  munch  all  night ;  and  when  we  wake,  startled 
by   the    cry    of    a    jackal,    or    by    a    shout    from    one  of   the 


'nowhere  in  particular" 


no 


INTO   MOROCCO 


"a  semblance  of  a  hii;h\vav  " 


men  on  guard,  we  are  sure  to  hear  that  music  of  nine 
munching  mouths.  It  is  our  lullab}^  and  we  fall  asleep 
again  to  dream  of  Fez,  the  mysterious  city  which  we  shall 
enter  on  the  morrow. 


INTO  MOROCCO 


I II 


On  the  eleventh  morning  of  our  journey  the  semblance  of 
a  highway  comes  straggling  from  the  south  to  meet  us.  The 
countless  caravans,  crawling  toward  the  holy  city,  have  cre- 
ated this  illusion  of  a  road,  —  a  road  that  will  lead  us  in  a  few 
short  hours  to  the  gates  of  a  great  city,  the  fascination  of 
which,  for  him  who  has  the  slightest  love  of  romance  in  his 
soul,  is  irresistible.      Fez  is  no  banal,  modernized,  or  tourist- 


*' MIDWAY    'tWIXT    HERE    AND    THERE" 

ridden  city,  nor  is  it  a  mere  heap  of  ugliness  and  ruin  of 
which  the  only  charm  is  a  remoteness  from  the  living  world. 
Fez  is  a  city  that  has  been  in  its  time  one  of  the  proudest 
and  most  splendid  cities  of  the  Moslem  world.  Its  fall  has 
been  so  gradual  that  there  has  been  no  change,  nothing  but 
a  slow  decay,  so  gentle  that  it  has  not  scarred  old  Fez,  but 
beautified  it.  Fez,  like  Venice,  requires  but  a  touch  of  the 
imagination,  aided  by  the  long  shadows  of  the  early  morning, 


I  12 


INTO   MOROCCO 


the  mystery  of  twilight,  or  the  silvery  magic  of  the  moonlight, 
to  restore  it  to  us  as  it  stood  in  all  its  somber  beauty  eight 
hundred  years  ago. 

Therefore  do  we  most  eagerly  await  the  moment  that  will 
reveal  to  us  this  crumbling  stronghold  of  a  dying  race,  this 
beautiful  but  fragile  shell  of  Moorish  civilization, — a  civiliza- 
tion that  long  ago  ceased  to  progress,  and,  ceasing  to  pro- 
gress,  has  thereby  ceased  to  live. 


■^'i^ik, 


THE  GATE  OF  A  FONDAK  IN  FEZ 

A  glimpse  of  the  decaying  splendor  of  a 
city  which  reveals  to  modern  eyes  a  vivid 
though  faded  picture  of  what  the  Moorish 
city  of  Granada  in  Spain  must  have  been  in 
the  days  of  her  glo^-^y  It  is  said  that  many 
a  Moor  of  Morocco  holds  today  the  keys  of 
the  palaces  and  fondaks  that  his  ancestors 
once  owned  in  the  Granada  of  Boabdil  and 
in  other  Moslem  cities  of  Saracenic  Spain. 
To  visit  Fez  today  is  like  journeying  back- 
ward along  Time's  highway  to  the  age  when 
Moslem  Spain  was  the  most  civilized  and 
most  highly  cultured  nation  of  continental 
Europe. 


S3^  PH^AaMO"!  A  10  3TAD  '^HT 


t 


£  'io  -lobn^iqa  §nr{£D3b  sift  lo  o 

■■ .  ■     >:•,•  *  ■■.    ,•;■■       :■%■■' 

-jjf-sfii  Y-sboJ  ablod  opooiol 
bn£  libdfibS  Io  jeb^nBiO  aril  m  t 

'^i""  bssilr/b  2<iQm.pdi  giJW  rii...^i::  ;....      ... 

;iniJrioo  io  jrt6iiBJi  b'^iu^luo  virfgirf  Mcorn 

/:>qoii/3 


jiaxv  oT 


^1^ 


FEZ 


THE   METROPOLIS  OF 
THE    MOORS 


'O  modern  minds  the  word  "metropo- 
lis ' '  suggests  a  city,  great  in  extent, 
in  the  heart  of  a  thickly  populated  country  ; 
a  place  of  marvels  and  of  wonderful  con- 
trivances ;  a  place  w^here  commerce  has 
worn  mighty  canons  between  huge  cliffs  of  masonry  ;  a  place 
toward  which  all  roads  converge  ;  a  place  whence  radiate 
interminable  rails  of  steel,  along  which  speed  steaming 
monsters,  annihilating  space  and  bringing  vast  regions  under 
the  spell  of  urban  supremacy  ;  or  else  the  suggestion  is  of  a 
mighty  seaport,  to  which  the  great  ships  of  the  deep  bring  men 
from  far-off  lands  and  cargoes  from  the  far  ends  of  the  earth. 
Metropolis,  moreover,  means  a  place  where  burn  the  bea- 
con-lights of  intelligence  and  culture  ;  where  the  latest  word 


Ii6 


FEZ 


THI-;    .MKIROPOLIS   OK    THH    MOORS 


of  science  is  spoken  ;  where  every  day  a  superstition  dies  ; 
where  seekers  after  truth  come  nearest  to  their  goal.  A 
metropolis  is  the  essence  of  our  New  Century  civilization, — 
the  creation  of  an  irresistible  modern  impulse,  an  entity  that 
challenges  our  admiration  and  inspires  us  with  awe. 

But  there  is  in  this  world  a  great  city,  the  metropolis  of  a 
nation,  which  is  not  like  the  cities  that  we  know. 


APPROACHING    FEZ 


FEZ 


117 


In  the  midst  of  a  fertile,  smiling  wilderness,  it  is  a  stranger 
to  all  things  that  are  new  ;  its  commerce  ebbs  and  flows 
through  channels  unknown  to  the  world.  At  its  gates  are  no 
railways  and  no  carriage-roads,  but  it  holds  infrequent  com- 
munication with  a  distant  port  by  means  of  caravans  of  mules 
and  camels,  and  of  messengers  who  run  on  foot.      Its  culture 

is  the  culture  of  the  ^^^t-^ Fifteenth  Century, 

its  science  '  .        of  still  earlier 


"  IN    lUK   .MIUST    Ot 


.  il.LiEKNEbb  " 


date  ;  and  truth  there  is  yet  hid  by  clouds  of  superstition. 
This  city  is  the  essence  of  the  Middle  Ages  ;  it  is  the  heart 
of  a  nation  that  was  mummified  eight  hundred  years  ago  by 
the  religion  of  Mohammed.  This  city  is  called  Fez ;  the 
land  of   which  it  is  the  capital  is  Morocco. 

The  first  glimpse  of  Fez  is  an  event  in  the  life  of  a  traveler. 
Then,  if  ever,  will  be  experienced  one  of  those  delicious  little 
thrills  that  make  their  way  down  the  spinal  column  of  a  man 
when  he  realizes  that  he  has  accomplished  something  of  which 


ii8 


FEZ 


he  has  long  been  dreaming.  And  when  we,  who  have  long 
been  dreaming  of  a  visit  to  the  Moor's  metropolis,  actually 
behold  it,  though  it  first  appears  as  only  a  faint  line  of  walls 
and  towers,  almost  undiscernible  through  the  rough  sea  of 
heated  air-waves  that  surge  between  us  and  the  city,  now 
that  Fez  at  last  has  risen  from  this  endless  plain  over  which 
we  have  been  toiling  southward  for  eleven  days,  we  feel  that 
we  must  draw  rein,  and  for  a  few  minutes  indulge  in  the 
enjoyment  of  that  creeping  thrill.  There  are  so  few  of  them 
in  life  ;  the  traveler  who  can  remember  twenty  of  these  deli- 
cious moments  in  as  many  years  is  fortunate  above  his  kind  ! 
Happy  in  the  assurance  that  a  new  and  thoroughly  un- 
common experience  is  opening  before  us,  we  ride  rapidly  on. 
Leaving  our  baggage  caravan  far  in  the  rear,  and  halting  at 
a    respectful    distance    from    the    walls,    we    snatch    a    hasty 


A    FAINT    LINE   OF    WALLS   AND   TOWERS  " 


FEZ 


121 


luncheon  before  entering  the  gates  of  Fez  ;  and  this  luncheon 
is  the  last  incident  of  our  delightful  journey  into  Morocco.  We 
have  been  eleven  long  days  in  the  saddle.  We  recall  the  de- 
parture from  Tangier,  the  nights  in  camp  near  Berber  villages, 
the  passing  glimpse  of  the  city  of  zVlcazar-el-Kebir,  and  the 
visit  to  Morocco's  greatest  saint,  the  Shareef  of  Wazzan  ;  nor 
can  we  forget  the  great  sun-flooded  land,  bright  with  the  colors 
of  a  million-million  flowers,  across  which  our  little  caravan 
has  struggled  at  a  snail-like  pace,  crawling  scarce  twenty 
miles  between  the  rising  and  the  setting  of  the  sun. 


"the  sun-flooded  land" 


122 


FEZ 


WHO   CAN  FORGET  THE 
SMILING    FACE   OF    HAJ?" 


Still  with  us  are  the  Faithful  Five  — 
the  five  men  who  formed  our  escort, 
the  men  to  whom  we  looked  for 
comfort,  willing  service,  and  pro- 
tection. There  is  Kaid  Lharbi, 
the  military  guard,  under  his 
broad-brimmed  hat ;  and  as  for 
the  dragoman-in-chief,  who  can 
forget  the  smiling  face  of  Haj  Abd- 
er-Rahman  ?  A  marvel  of  tact  and 
cleverness  was  "  Haj,  "  but  though  he 
has  successfully  piloted  our  fleet  of  mules 
and  horses,  with  their  cargoes  of  tents, 
furniture,  provisions,  cameras,  and  presents,  across  trackless 
expanses  where  the  only  law  is  the  Law  of  Might,  he  may  well 
assume  an  anxious  expression  as  we  approach  the  gates  of 
Fez  ;  for  there  his  task  will  be  even  more  difficult.  Instead 
of  the  lawless,  but  simple-minded,  easily-won  people  of  the 
plains,  he  will  now  have  to  deal  with  city  men,  men  of  strong 
anti-Christian  prejudices,  with  the  proud,  ignorant,  fanatical, 
and  cunning  population  of  this  untaken 
stronghold  of  Mohammed's  faith.  We 
shall  be  met  at  every  turn  by  a  polite 
resistance,  and  although  our  letters, 
obtained  in  Tangier  from  the  Moorish 
Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs,  assure  us 
official  protection,  we  shall  be  given 
to  understand  that  we  are  not  wel- 
come visitors,  and  that  our  sojourn 
must  be  made  as  short  as  possible. 
The  surroundings  are  so  smiling 
and  peaceful  that  we  can  scarcely 
realize  that  yonder  city  is  one  of  the 
most   fanatical,    one   of    the    most   rigidly 


KAID    LHARBI 


FEZ 


123 


IHE    CRU.MBLING    WALLS 


opposed  to  foreign  intrusion  of  any 
in  the  world.  Our  lirst  impression 
is  that  Fez  lies  on  a  level  plain  ;  but  we  find  this  is  not  true, 
for  it  is  spread  out  on  the  slopes  of  an  irregular  valley. 
Another  view  than  our  first  will  tell  us  more  of  the  situation 
of  the  place.  I  must  confess,  however,  that  although  my 
bump  of  locality  is  fairly  well  developed,  I  found  the  situa- 
tion  of    Fez   most  difficult  clearly  to  understand,  and  it  was 


THE   WESTERNMOST    STRONGHOLD   OF    MOHA^^MED'S   FAITH 


124 


FEZ 


only  after  repeated  excursions  to  the  surrounding  eminences 
that  I  was  able  to  map  out  mentally  the  various  quarters  of 
the  town.  That  there  are  two  great  divisions,  each  almost 
independent  of  the  other,   we  very  soon  discover. 

First,  there  is  the  Imperial  and  official  quarter,  where 
the  palaces  and  gardens  of  the  Sultan  and  the  buildings  of 
the  government  are  scattered  over  uncounted  acres  of  high- 


FASS-EL-DJEDID  ' 

walled  areas.  In  native  speech,  this  quarter  is  called  Fass- 
el-Djedid  ;  that  is,  "  Fez,  the  new,  "  for  it  is  new  when  meas- 
ured by  the  age  of  Fass-Bali,  or  Old  Fez,  which  soon  reveals 
itself  to  us,  lying  in  a  hollow  to  the  left  of  Fass-el-Djedid. 
This  is  the  lucdina,  or  city  proper,  wherein  are  situated  the 
most  sacred  mosques,  the  busiest  bazaars,  the  dwellings  of 
the  poorer  classes,  and  the  modest  Vice-Consulates  of  only 
two  or  three  European  nations.  Between  the  animated 
Medina,  —  a  mass  of  closely  packed  cubes  of  white,  appearing 


FEZ 


125 


when  viewed  from  a  distance  like  a  saucer  filled  with  sugar 
lumps,  —  and  the  spacious,  stately  governmental  quarter,  lies 
what  is  called  the  garden  region. 

This  portion  of  the  city  in  part  resembles  a  well-cultivated 
farming  region,  open  and  free  of  access  ;  in  part  it  is  like  a 
labyrinth  of  narrow  high-walled  alleys,  dividing,  with  their 
double  barriers  of  stone  and  plaster,  one  mysterious  garden 
from  another,  isolating  the  secret  retreat  of  one  aristocratic 
Moor  from  the  perfumed  inclosure  in  which  the  harem  of 
another  is  confined.  A  veritable  abode  of  mystery  and  beauty 
is  that  distant  portion  of  the  garden  region,  a  paradise  to 
which  the  stranger  is  not  welcomed.  Nor  will  the  stranger 
be  f>c}-so}ia  grata  in  any  part  of  Fez  if  the  reports  of  other 
travelers  are  true.  Surely,  it  will  be  a  luxury  to  be  despised 
by  an  entire  population,  and  despised  because  we  are  that 
which  we  are  most  proud  to  be,  champions  of  progress,  lovers 
of  civilization.      And  ready  to  meet  the   contempt  of   Allah's 


'  FASS-BALI  " 


126 


FEZ 


THE    GATK   OF    NEW    FEZ 


people,  we  approach  this  city.  Near  the  ruined  walls  we  see 
a  multitude  of  whitish  forms,  now  immobile,  now  swayed  as  by 
emotion.  It  is  an  audience  composed  of  men  of  Fez,  gathered 
in  a  sort  of  natural  theater  to  listen  to  the  dramatic  tale  of  a 
famous  story-teller.  In  ages  that  are  past  the  white-robed 
Greeks  came  forth  from  Athens  and  sat  thus  in  the  shadow  of 
the  old  Acropolis  to  listen  to  the  stories  of  dramatists  and  poets 
whose  fame  the  whole  world  now  knows.  And  because  of  its 
suggestion  of  those  ancient  gatherings,  this  assembly  takes  on 
a  dignity  and  an  importance  in  our  eyes.  Our  coming  causes  a 
diversion  ;  spectators  drop  the  thread  of  the  speaker's  dis- 
course, and  turn  toward  us  with  a  scowling  curiosity.  There 
are  no  greetings,  not  a  smile,  but  we  are  not  conscious  of  any 
open  rudeness,  save  that  now  and  then  as  we  ride  through  the 
crowd,  we  notice  that  men  clear  their  throats  and  spit  ;  this, 
however,  we  expected,  for  we  knew  that  the  presence  of  a 


FEZ 


129 


Christian    so    defiles    the   atmos- 
phere  that    good    Mohammedans 
must   needs  cleanse  their  mouths 
and    nostrils    after    he    has    passed. 

And  now  one  of  the  great  gates  of  New  Fez  looms  before 
us.  We  enter.  For  a  moment  a  dampness  like  that  of  a 
tunnel  wraps  its  cool  refreshing  blackness  about  us,  and  then 
we  emerge  into  a  spacious  age-worn  court,  which  shows  us 
that  the  adjective  "new"  applied  to  this  strange,  almost 
deserted  quarter  has  only  a  comparative  significance.  There 
is  in  the  entire  city  nothing  that  is  really  new.  And  yet  this 
is  not  strictly  true,  for  on  our  right  we  see  a  gateway  freshly 
plastered,  freshly  painted  in  pale  blue,  with  piles  of  cannon 
balls  upon  the  top  of  its  pilasters.  It  is  the  recently  estab- 
lished arsenal  of  the  Sultan.  For  the  Sultan,  though  averse 
to  progress  and  to  civilization,  has  not  hesitated  to  adopt  that 


I30 


FEZ 


which  is  most  barbarous  in  our  science, — the  modern  methods 
of  destruction  ;  and  here  he  manufactures  death-deahng  in- 
struments like  those  invented  by  the  Christians.  We  traverse 
the    long,    cheerless,    almost    deserted    square,    and    cross 


"fez — IN   ALL   ITS   DILAPIDATED    REALITY" 

the  threshold  of  another  gate.  We  find  ourselves  in  a  tortu- 
ous, vaulted  corridor,  divided  into  gloomy  sections  by  huge 
horseshoe  arches.  These  gates  of  Fez  are  surely  not  de- 
signed to  facilitate  urban  circulation,  rather  are  they  designed, 
in  case  of  need,  to  prevent  or  at  least  to  impede  the  rapid 
gathering  of  crowds  in  the  great  areas  around  the  imperial 
palace  —  to  isolate  the  various  precincts  of  the  city  in  case 
of    revolution. 

As  we  pass  onward,  veiled  women  observe  us  with  a  silent 
wonder,  a  few  men  pause  to  clear  their  throats  or  sneer,  a 
holy  beggar  crouching  in  an  angle  howls  after  us  his  incoherent 


FEZ 


131 


curse.  While  my  horse  passes  close  to  one  of  these  ruined 
pillars,  I  involuntarily  extend  my  hand  and  touch  the  crum- 
bling brick,  as  if  to  be  assured  that  all  this  is  not  an  illusion; 
that  Fez,  the  city  of  our  dream,  does  actually  exist  in  all  its 
dilapidated  reality  ;  that  at  last  the  object  of  our  journey  into 
Morocco  has  been  attained  ;  that  our  arrival  in  the  Sultan 's 
city  is  an  accomplished  fact.  Then,  followed  by  our  caravan, 
we  pass  from  under  these  ponderous  arches  and  enter  another 
court,  smaller  but  not  less  strange  than  the  first.  Here, 
moving  to  and  fro  are  a  few  white-robed  beings ;  but  so 
silently  do  they  stalk  along,  seemingly  unconscious  of  our 
presence,  that  we  feel  as  if  we  hid  entered  a  city  of  the  dead, 
inhabited  only  by  sheeted  ghosts.  Already  we  feel  as  if  the 
shroud  of  Islam  were  being  slowly  wrapped  about  us.  To  the 
left  rise  the  walls  which  hide  from  view  the  seraglios  and 
palaces  of  Mulai  Al-Hasan  III,  the  Sultan  ;  to  the  right  are 
other  walls,  conceal- 
ing we  know  not  what 
mysterious  buildings 
—  vast  abandoned 
structures  which  the 
stranger  never  sees. 
The  Sultans  have 
been  reckless  builders. 
We  are  told  that  the 
father  of  Mulai  Al- 
Hasan    began,    long 


years    ago,    a 


palace 


which  was  designed 
to  be  the  largest  in 
the  world.  The  walls 
of  one  room  only  were 
erected,  and  this  room 
was  never  even   cov- 


in THE  GATES 


132 


FEZ 


A   STOLEN   GLIMPSE  OF  THE   IMPERIAL   PALACE 

ered  by  a  roof.  It  forms  to-day  one  of  the  most  extensive  pub- 
lic squares  of  Fez,  measuring  three  hundred  by  nine  hundred 
feet.  How  the  old  architects  would  have  solved  the  problem 
of  arching-  this  huge  empty  space,  it  is  impossible  to  guess. 
This  is  but  one  of  the   long  series  of  abandoned  squares 

and  public  places 
across  which  our  es- 
cort conducts  us, 
each  separated  from 
another  by  c  r  u  m  - 
bling  walls,  pierced 
by  artistic  Moorish 
archways.  Before 
reaching  the  city 
proper,  we  pass 
through  a  dozen  or 
more  of  these  arched 
portals,  so  ruinous, 
many  of  them,  that 
they  appear  about  to 
fall  and  crush  us  be- 

"  THE   EMPTY   SPACIOUSNESS   OF   NEW   FEZ  "  nCath      tOnS      OI       CBUt- 


FEZ 


133 


ury-old  masonry.  I  should  but  weary  you  were  I  to  de- 
scribe our  progress  in  detail ;  suffice  it  to  repeat  that  before 
we  reach  Old  Fez  we  pass  through  many  gates  and  traverse 
interminable,  broad,  deserted  alleys  leading  between  high, 
crumbling,  battlemented  walls,  where  we  are  stared  at, 
muttered  at,   scowled  at,  by  the  shaven-pated  youth  of  Fez, 

while  more  mature  citi- 
zens exhibit  their  con- 
tempt by  striding  past 
without    so    much    as    a 


A    PL'BLIC    SQUARE 

look.  It  argues  an  immense  amount  of 
self-control  to  refrain  from  gazing  on  such  an  unusual  spec- 
tacle as  our  caravan  presented,  simply  because  we  were  not 
true  believers.  Nevertheless,  there  were  few  among  the 
better  dressed  men  whom  we  met,  who  did  not  march 
severely  by,  nose  in  air,  eyes  front,  denying  themselves  the 
satisfaction  of  an  interested  stare,  because  an  initial  glance 
had  assured  them  that  we  were  ' '  unclean  Christians. 
Though  I  confess  that  this  reproach,  owing  to  our  ten  days' 
travel  overland,  and  to  the  scarcity  of  water  in  Morocco,  was 


134 


FEZ 


only  too  well  founded,  yet  we  found  it  consoling  to  notice 
convincing  proofs  that  many  of  the  true  believers  were  also 
without  the  virtue  that  is  next  to  godliness.  Moreover,  we 
intended  to  reform  as  soon  as  we  could  lind  a  home,  while  no 
such  admirable  intentions  can  be  credited  to  those  who 
reviled  us. 

But  as  for  the  ladies  we  encountered  —  bless  their  feminine 
souls!  —  with  them,  womanly  curiosity  proved  stronger  than 
religious  prejudice.  They  frankly  halted,  turned  their  pretty 
faces  toward  us  and  gazed  up  smilingly  at  the  arriving  travelers. 
We  must  admit,  however,  that  they  had  the  advantage  of  us  ; 
we  were  compelled  to  take  for  granted  both  the  prettiness  and 
smiles,  and  it  w^as  pleasanter  to  do  so  ;  moreover,  there  v/as 
nothing  else  to  do.  Still,  the  features  of  her  who  paused  on 
the  left,  as  vaguely  molded  by  the  masking  haik,  were  not  of 


"stared  at,  muttered  at,  scowled  at' 


FEZ 


135 


"womanly  curiosity  stronger  than  religious  prejudice" 


Grecian  purity.  She 
have  charmed  us  more 
she  not  drawn  her  veil  so 
tight.  On  the  right 
an  older  woman  was 
more  discreet  ;  like 
the  wise  Katisha  she 
believed  that  it  is  not 
alone  in  the  face  that 
beauty  is  to  be 
sought,  so  she 
sparingly  dis- 
played her 
charms,  reveal- 
ing only  a  left 
heel  which  peo- 
ple may  have  come  many  miles  to  see.  The  fair  one  in  the 
middle  bares  her  face  in  most  immodest  fashion  :  through  an 
opening  at  least  three  quarters  of  an  inch  in  width  two 
pretty  eyes  of  black  are  flaming  ;  and,  indeed,  it  may  be  set 
down  as  an  almost  invariable  rule  that  the  wider  the 
opening  'twixt  veil  and  haik,  the  prettier  the  eyes  that 
flash    between. 

With  maledictions  on  the  prevailing  style  of  dress  for 
Moorish  beauties,  we  ride  on,  passing  finally  from  the  empty 
spaciousness  of  New  Fez  into  the  crowded  compactness  of  the 
old  Medina.  Here  our  pace,  always  slow,  must  be  made 
even  slower  ;  our  caravan  winds  at  a  careful  walk  into  a 
labyrinth  of  narrow  ways,  so  dark,  so  crowded,  so  redolent  of 
Oriental  life,  so  saturated  with  the  atmosphere  of  Islam  and 
the  East,  that  we  are  thrilled  with  pleasure  at  the  thought 
that  we  are  for  a  space  to  become  dwellers  in  this  strange 
metropolis  and  to  live  its  life  —  a  life  so  utterly  unrelated  to 
that  of  the  cities  whence  we  come. 


136 


FEZ 


"  THE  CROWDED  COMPACTNESS  OF  THE  OLD  MEDINA" 

First  we  must  secure  an  abiding-place,  for  there  are  no 
hotels  in  Fez  —  at  least  none  in  which  foreigners  could  live 
and  remain  in  possession  of  their  self-respect  and  sanity.  The 
only  places  of  pul^lic  entertainment  are  the  Fondaks,  where 
men  and  mules  are  lodged  and  fed.  A  glance  through  the 
door  of  the  Fondak,  where  our  own  faithful  animals  were 
later  in  the  day  entered  as  boarders  for  an  indefinite  period, 
proved  how  utterly  preposterous  it  would  be  for  us  to  depend 
upon  the  hotel  resources  of  the  capital.  Although  the  packs 
have  been  removed,  the  pack-saddles,  each  a  burden  in  itself, 
have  not  been  taken  off  nor  will  they  be  until  to-morrow  for 
fear  the  animals  uncovered  while  heated  from  exertion  might 
catch  cold,  fall  sick,  and  die.  In  fact,  the  mules  have  not 
been  free  from  these  cruel  weights  at  any  time  during  the 
journey  of  eleven  days.  Why  the  idea  of  suicide  does  not 
appeal  to  the  Morocco  mule  is  but  another  of  the  unaccount- 
able problems  of  the  land. 

Convinced  that  hotel-life  in  Fez  has  no  attraction  for  us, 
we    follow  Haj  toward  the  palace  of  the   Governor,   where, 


FEZ 


137 


thanks  to  our  official 
letters,  we  expect  to 
find  that  ample  pro- 
visions for  our  com- 
fort have  been  made. 
&  We  halt  at  last  before 
^  •  an  unpromising  door, 
in  a  deep  and  narrow 
street.  The  palace 
of  the  Basha  is  not 
extremely  imposing  in 
, ,  its  exterior,  but  we 
||  know  that  in  Morocco 
bare  outer  walls  often 
hide  undreamed  -  of 
splendor,  and  that 
dirty,  dingy  streets 
may  surround  pavil- 
ions and  gardens  of 
unsuspected  beauty. 
Therefore    it    is    with 

A    LAPAKINTH 

OK  NARROW  WAYS"    coulidence  that  we  in- 


trust our  letters, 
long,  beautifully 
written  documents 
in  Arabic,  to  the 
attendant  at  the 
door.  He  disap- 
pears ;  we  wait ; 
he  remains  out  of 
sight;  we  con- 
tinue   to    wait. 

For  three  long, 
mortal  hours  this 


THE  BEST  "  HOTEL  "  IN  FEZ  ( 


138 


FEZ 


endures.  Evidently  the  Basha  is  deliberating  deeply  upon 
the  proper  disposition  of  his  unwelcome  visitors.  Now  and 
then  an  official  comes  out  to  look  us  over,  but  nothing  is 
done.  Soldiers  and  servants  are  sent  away  on  errands,  and 
seem  never  to  return.  We  sit,  meanwhile,  mute  protests  at 
file  door.  Knowing  our  helplessness,  we  curb  our  anger 
and  impatience,  and  endeavor  to  conceal  our  weariness  from 
the  scornful  citizens  who  pass  with  haughty  sneers,  happy 
to   see  two  Christians    awaiting    the    Basha 's    pleasure. 

At  last  a  servant  comes  with  a  reply.  On  receiving  it, 
Haj  files  into  a  passion,  and  orders  the  caravan  to  follow  him, 
and  away  we  file  through  the  crowded  streets,  Haj  gesticu- 
lating wildly  and  shouting  loud  enough  for  all  to  hear  that 
the  Basha  has  attempted  to  extort  money  from  the  foreign 
visitors,  who  are  great  lords,  whereas  he  is  bound  by  instruc- 
tions from  the  Minister  at  Tangier  to  lodge  them  at  the 
expense  of  the  city.  And  this  is  true ;  it  is  the  policy 
of  the  government  to  provide 
gratis  a  house  for  foreign  visi- 


FEZ 


141 


tors  to  Fez.  This  policy  is  prompted  not  by  a  generous 
spirit  of  hospitality,  but  by  a  desire  to  control  the  move- 
ments of  the  strangers.  It  is  feared  that  if  the  foreigner  is 
permitted  to  pay  rental  for  his  house,  he  may  in  some  way 
establish  a  vague  right  to  occupy  it  longer  than  is  con- 
sistent with  the  desires  of  the  governmento  This  might 
prove  awkward  and  lead  to  complications.  It  is  much 
simpler  to  make  the  foreigner  a  guest,  who  cannot  refuse 
to  move  on  when  politely  notified  that  his  abode  is  needed 
for   another   visitor. 

In  our  case,  however,  the  Basha  has  demanded  payment 
for  the  house,  and  Haj,  knowing  well  how  to  deal  with  this 
emergency,  is  leading  us  with  ostentatious  indignation  toward 
the  city  gates,  breathing  as  he  rides  loud  threats  that  he  will 
report  our  treatment  to  our  friend,  the  Moorish  Minister  of 
Foreign  Affairs,  and  declaring  that  we  will,  meantime,  pitch 
our  camp  outside  the  walls,  and  hold  the  Governor  respons- 
ible for  any  injury  suffered  at  the  hands  of  prowling  robbers. 

His    shrewd    tactics   prove   ef- 
fectual ;   for  as  we  are  passing 


142 


FEZ 


through  one  of  the 
pretty  alleys  of  the 
Garden  Region,  we  are 
overtaken  by  servants 
of  the  Governor.  Re- 
pentant, he  has  sent 
them  with  the  keys  of 
a  villa  that  he  has  as- 
signed to  us.  We  fol- 
low the  Governor  s 
retainers  toward  the 
heart  of  the  aristo- 
cratic quarter,  through 
a  perplexing  labyrinth 
of  sun-fllooded  alleys, 
where  the  redundant 
vegetation  of  the 
silent,  surrounding  gar- 
dens overflows  the  sky- 
line, or  bursts  through 
cracks  in  the  old  masonry.  We  know  not  whither  we 
are  being  led  ;  we  scarcely  dare  hope  that  we  shall  be  per- 
mitted to  abide  in  this  delightful  residential  region,  and  we 
fear  that  some  abandoned  house  will  be  made  to  serve  us  as  a 
semi-prison.  And  soon  it  seems  that  our  worst  fears  are  to 
be  realized,  for  although  the  caravan  is  halted  in  the  garden 
region,  it  is  in  the  dingiest  and  narrowest  of  its  streets, 
before  the  lowest  and  the  darkest  of  its  doors. 

When  Pierre  Loti  came  to  Fez  and  saw  for  the  first 
time  the  entrance  to  his  house,  he  immediately  exclaimed  : 
' '  But  this  is  not  a  human  habitation !  One  might  be  par- 
doned for  thinking  it  the  entrance  to  a  rabbit  hutch  ;  and 
even  then  they  must  be  very  poor  rabbits  to  live  in  such 
a    place." 


THK  SVNNV  ALLEYS  OF  THK  (iARDEN  RKGIOX 


FEZ 


143 


A 


The  door  of  our 
promised  abode  looks 
like  the  outlet  of  a 
sewer  or  the  entrance 
to  a  pig-sty.  And 
Haj,  who  has  buoyed 
up  our  hopes  with 
descriptions  of  the 
palace  we  were  soon 
to  occupy  in  Fez, 
receives  reproachful 
glances.  We  fear 
his  "  palaces  ' '  no 
more  deserve  their 
name  than  did  his 
"forests  "  and  his 
"lakes  ' '  and  "riv- 
ers, ' '  for  to  him  a 
clump  of  half  a 
dozen  trees  was  a 


"  IN   THE   NARROWEST   AND   DINGIEST   STREET  " 

'  'foret  mag'iiijiqile  /  "  a  muddy  pool 

"  u?i    lac    su- 
perbe,'''  and  a 
slimy  streamlet, 
"  ii?i  c   riviere 
claire    et    bel- 
le. ' '     And  now 
his    *^  p  a  I  a  i  s 
sf)  I e  nd ide  " 
bids  fair  to  be  — 
a    dirty  prison. 
But  the  ar- 
rival   of    our 
pack-mules 
leaves    us    no 


144 


FEZ 


time  for  reproaches  or  complaints.  The  caravan  completely 
blocks  the  circulation  of  the  neighborhood.  The  pack-mules, 
too  broadly  loaded,  get  stuck  fast  in  the  narrow  street,  and 
we  are  compelled  to  back  them  out  and  discharge  the  cargoes 
at  a  neighboring  street-intersection.  Our  folding  beds  and 
chairs,  our  gaily-colored  rugs  and  cushions,  our  kitchen  out- 
fit, and  our  photographic  kit 
are  heaped                                                                 up  in  the  public 


HKTWKEN    SILENT   GARDENS 


thoroughfare,  pending  the  disappearance  of  the 
animals.  But  happily,  owing  to  the  blockade,  there  are  no 
passers-by  ;  else  the  major  portion  of  our  goods  might  also 
disappear.  A  sound  of  rushing  water  fills  the  air,  for  one  of 
the  rapid  canals  that  irrigate  the  gardens  and  turn  the  flour- 
mills  of  Fez,  here  flows  beneath  the  street.  It  makes  a  music 
very  grateful  to  the  ears  of  those  who  are  new  come  from  the 
torrid  prairies  of  the  provinces.  Truly,  it  will  be  pleasant  to 
rest  for  a  few  days  and  listen   to   that   music,  no  matter  how 


FEZ 


145 


distasteful  our  abode  may  prove  to  be.  Let  us,  then,  with 
resignation  crawl  through  our  dingy  door  and  make  ourselves 
at  home. 

Accordingly,  we  stoopingly  grope  through  a  low  dark 
passage,  then  —  stand  erect  and  gasp  with  pleasure !  Aladdin, 
when  for  the  first  time  he  rubbed  the  magic  lamp,  could  not 
have  been   more  thoroughly  delighted  or  surprised.      Before 


"  DISCHARGING    CARGO  " 


us  is  a  dainty  villa,  snowy  white  ;  around  it  a  delicious  garden, 
more  than  an  acre  in  extent.  The  fact  that  everything  is 
purely  Moorish,  that  no  hint  of  European  occupation  can  be 
seen,  and  the  conviction  that  our  home  differs  in  no  important 
detail  from  the  dwellings  of  our  aristocratic  neighbors,  gives 
added  charm  to  our  abode,  added  delight  to  the  thought  of 
sojourn  here  in  this  exotic  atmosphere.  It  is  resolved  that 
we  shall  occupy  the  upper  story,  that  our  men  shall  find 
lodgings  in  the  lower  rooms,  while  for  the  noonday  nap,  the 
10 


146 


FEZ 


promenade,  or  a  quiet  hour  with 
a  book,  our  pretty  garden  offers  us 
its  shady  depths. 
It  is  redolent  with 
the  perfume  of  or- 
ange-blossoms and 
jasmine.  Beneath 
the  leafy  branches 
of  the  lemon  and 
pomegranate,  fig- 
a  n  d  olive  -  trees, 
there  is  even  at 
noon  a  coolness 
as  of  evening. 
The  hum  of  in- 
sects, the  subdued 
roar  of  tumbling 
waters  in  the  ad- 
jacent garden,  and 
the  trickling  mur- 
mur of  tiny  canals 
fill  the  air  with  a 
restful  symphony. 


FRONT    DOOR 


OUR  VILLA 


FEZ 


149 


OUR    MOORISH    r.ARDKN 


We  have  forgotten 
the  rudeness  of  our 
welcome  ;  we  have 
shut  out  the  grim, 
hostile  city  ;  we  are 
at  last  at  home  in 
Fez.  We  are  as  safe 
as  if  shut  up  in  jail. 
In  fact,  like  all  for- 
eign visitors,  we,  too, 
must  record  among 
our  sensations  that 
of  being  prisoners 
w  h  i  1  e  within  the 
walls  of  Fez ;  but 
we  are  very  willing 
prisoners,  and  when 
the  hour  of  dinner  is 


AT    HO.MK    IN    FRZ 


I50 


FEZ 


announced,  we  cheerfully  climb  the  tiny  spiral  stairway  to  our 
roomy  cell,  and  with  this  first  meal  begin  the  routine  of  our 
daily  home  life  in  the  Sultan's  city. 

We  have  simply  pitched  camp  in  the  great  upper  chamber 
of  the  house,  spread  out  the  rugs,  set  up  the  beds,  the  chairs, 
and  tables,  and  made  ourselves  as  comfortable  as  possible. 
The  windows  are  merely  huge  openings  in  the  wall,  unglazed, 
with  metal  bars  and  heavy  wooden  shutters.  The  floor  is 
neatly  tiled,  the  walls  are  whitewashed,  and  the  ceiling  is  of 


WILLING   PRISONERS 


FEZ 


15T 


wood.       Our 
five  attendants 
have     taken 
possession     of 
the     lower 
floor.       There    p 
also    Haj    has 
installed    his   'I 
little     cuisine, 
and    is 
indus- 
triously 
encour- 
aging 

a    tiny  haj's  cuisine 

charcoal  fire  with  a  fan.  Sitting  near,  intently  observing  his 
culinary  operations,  is  a  young  Jewish  woman,  who  brought 
a  recommendation  from  the  British  Vice-Consul,  and  was 
engaged  to  act  as  maid-of-all-work,  to  help  five  helpless  men 

to  bring  order  and  com- 
fort out  of  the  chaos  that 
reigns    here  on  the  day 
of  our  arrival.     That  she 
does  not  lack  for  occupa- 
tion is  proved  by  the  as- 
pect   presented    by    our 
courtyard  dur- 
ing the  painful 
period    of    in- 
stallation   in 
our  e  X  q  u  i  s  - 
i  t  e    Moorish 
home.      Pack- 
baskets,     bed- 


THE  JEWISH    MATD-OF-AI.I.-WOKK 


152 


FEZ 


ding,  blankets,  furniture,  and  dishes  had  been  dumped  there 
in  confusion  ;  but  through  the  efforts  of  our  Hebrew  house- 
keeper, all  things  are  quickly  put  to  rights,  the  court  resumes 
its  wonted  air  of  Oriental  languor,  the  little  fountain  sings 
on  its  uninterrupted  song,  and  the  atmosphere  of  romance 
once  more  envelopes  house  and  court  and  garden.  To  fill 
our  cup  of  happiness,  a  messenger  arrived,   bringing  a  bulky 


CHAOS    IN    THE   COURTYARD 


packet  of  letters  from  America  ;  for  a  courier  of  the  British 
consul,  who  left  Tangier  one  week  after  our  departure,  has 
arrived  in  Fez  the  day  of  our  arrival,  having  run  on  foot  the 
entire  vv^ay,  one  hundred  and  seventy  miles  in  four  days '  time  ; 
while  we,  encumbered  with  a  baggage  caravan,  have  been 
eleven  days  upon  the  way. 

We  remain  a  day  and  night  in  our  new  abode  before  ven- 
turing out  into  the  streets.  We  shall  now  cautiously  com- 
mence a  series  of  expeditions  —  one  cannot  call  them  strolls  or 
promenades  —  across  and  round  about  the  town.     The  objec- 


FEZ 


153 


tive-point  of  our  first  ex- 
pedition is  the  office  of 
our    banker.       We    de- 
scend    from     the     high- 
lying    Garden    Region , 
and     enter    the    ruinous 
streets    of    the    Medina. 
We  are  accompanied  by 
Haj,  for  without  a  guide 
we  should  soon 
go  astray.      We 
are  followed  by 
K  a  i  d    Lharbi, 
our  military  es- 
cort,   it   being 
most  imprudent 
for  the  foreigner 
to  walk  abroad 
unaccompanied 
by  a  guard.     To 
photograph  in 
the    streets    of 
Fez   is    difficult 

to  the  verge  of  impossibility.  First,  there  is  the  Mohamme- 
dan prejudice  against  picture-making,  the  reproduction  of  the 
likeness  of  living  things  being  prohibited  by  the  Koran,  which 
says  :  "  Every  painter  is  in  hell-fire,  and  i\llah  will  appoint  a 
person  at  the  day  of  resurrection  for  every  picture  he  shall 
have  drawn,  to  punish  him  ;  and  they  will  punish  him  in  hell. 
Then,  if  you  must  have  pictures,  make  them  of  trees  and 
things  without  souls."  Had  the  photographer  existed  in 
Mohammed's  day,  he  would  undoubtedly  have  had  a  special 
verse  in  Scripture  devoted  to  his  case  ;  as  it  is,  the  faith- 
ful   call    the    camera    a    "painting-machine,"  and    class    its 


STREETS    LIKE   VAULTED    TINNELS 


154 


FEZ 


TRELLISED   THOROUGHFARES 


ance    of    interminable    arbors,    through 
of  light  flitter  and  fall 
unpaved  ground  ;  still 
are  so  narrow  and 
cut  between  such  tall 
dark  walls,  that  nev- 
er  by  any  chance 
do    rays    of    sun- 
shine    illuminate 
their     depths. 
Street  life  in  Fez 
is   vividly   sugges- 
tive of  subterranean 
existence.      There  is 
a  dark-cellar-like  cool 


"  AMONG    RESUSCITATED 
MEN  IN  THEIR   SHROUDS  " 


manipulator  with  the 
impious  artists  whose 
instruments  of  crime 
are  brushes.  Even 
though  this  difficulty 
may  be  overcome  by 
cunning,  the  very 
streets  and  structures 
conspire  with  the 
people  to  foil  the 
eager  c  a  m  e  r  i  s  t  . 
Many  of  these  streets 
are  vaulted  tunnels, 
illuminated  only  here 
and  there  by  bands  of 
light  ;  others  are 
roofed  by  vine-cov- 
e  r  e  d  trellises,  that 
give  them  the  appear- 
which   faint  squares 


FEZ 


155 


ness,  which,  combined  with  the  ghostly  stride  and  costume  of 
the  inhabitants,  gives  us  the  impression  of  being  in  the  cata- 
combs among  resuscitated  men  in  their  shrouds.  Ghostly  in- 
deed is  the  dress  of  the  rich  old  men  in  Fez, —  a  dress  that 
gives  its  wearers  the  dignity  of  Roman  senators.  What  a  su- 
perb figure  for  the  ghost  of  Hamlet's  father  one  well-remem- 
bered old  gentleman  would  make  !  He  is,  however,  Haj  's 
uncle,  and  greets  our  guide,  his  nephew,  very  cordially.  Haj, 
rascal  that  he  is,  knowing  that  we  care  more  for  snap-shots 
than  for  introductions,  always  arranges  when  he  meets  a  friend 
or  relative  to  detain  him  in  conversation,  in  the  best  illumi- 
nated portion  of  the  street,  thus  giving  us  invaluable  oppor- 
tunities for  secret  portraiture.  Then,  after  he  has  heard  the 
"click!"     that 


comes  from  what 
appears  to  be  an 
innocent  brow  n 
paper  parcel  under 
my  right  arm,  Haj. 
with  many  com- 
plimentary phras- 
es, presents  us  to 
our  visitor,  intro- 
ducing us  as  men  of 
great  distinction 
from  America. 

Presently  we 
emerge  from  the 
dim  bazaars,  and 
find  ourselves  in  a 
small,  deep,  pub- 
lic square.  O  n 
one  side  is  a  semi- 
ruinous    water 


AN   EXCHANGE 


156 


FEZ 


HAJ  GREETS  A  GENTLEMAN  OF    FEZ 


fountain,    roofed    with    tiles 

and  decorated  with  mosaics. 

Before  us  is  a  stately  portal, 

the  entrance  to  a  commer- 
cial exchange,  a  headquart- 
ers  for   the    better    class   of 

merchants.       It    dates  from 

the  time  when  Fez  was  the 

commercial  center  of  a  rich 

and  very  prosperous  empire, 

when  the  merchandise  of  the 

world  found  here  a  profitable 

market.     The  building  now 

is   sadly  out   of   repair,    like 

almost  every  other  building 

in  the  city.      To  make  repairs  in  Fez  is  sacrilegious.      If  a 

structure  crumbles 
and  decays,  the 
owner  with  resigna- 
tion folds  his  hands 
and  murmurs,  '*  It 
is  the  will  of  Allah  ; 
it  is  written, ' '  and 
forthwith,  grateful 
for  this  mark  of  di- 
vine favor,  hies  him 
to  the  mosque  and 
prays. 

The  Mohamme- 
dan strictly  fulfils 
his  religious  observ- 
ances. During  the 
hour  of  prayer  the 
"repairs  are  seldom  made  in  fez"  quarter  is  aeserieQ  , 


1  RADI'.KS   "ON  THE  CURB" 


FEZ 


159 


an  hour  later  business  is  resumed,  and  the  wheels  of  metro- 
politan commerce,  released  for  a  short  space  from  the  religious 
brake,  again  revolve  with  many  a  squeak  and  crunch,  clogged 
as  they  are  by  superstition  and  neglect.  Yet  for  the  artist  or 
lover  of  the  picturesque,  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  a  more 
attractive  crowd  of  business  men.  And  these  Moorish  arch- 
ways, fountains,  tiled  roofs,  and  age-eaten  arabesques  are 
still    most    beautiful,    even   in   dilapidation     more     beautiful, 


iajfiMiiilMII 
THE   OFFICE  OF   THE   AMERICAN   CONSULAR    AGENT 

perhaps,  than  when  in  all  their  freshness  they  were  the  pride 
and  admiration  of  generations  of  Fassis,  long  since  gathered 
into  Paradise.  We  are  informed  that  our  banker,  who  is 
also  the  consular  agent  for  the  United  States,  has  offices 
within  a  certain  medieval  business  block  ;  and  as  we  are  in 
need  of  funds,  and  also  desirous  of  meeting  our  representa- 
tive, we  push  through  the  trading  throng  and  enter  the  patio, 
a  spacious  inner  court  four  stories  deep.  Four  tiers  of 
galleries  rise  about  us,   all  richly  finished  in  old  woodwork, 


i6o 


FEZ 


elaborately  carved,  but  sharing  in  the  slow  decay  of  the  entire 
building.  Our  consular  agent,  whose  office  door  stands  open 
on  the  left,  is  (  as  we  have  been  told )  a  native  Jew,  by  name, 
Benlezrah  ;  by  occupation,  a  merchant,  broker,  and  money 
lender;  and  by  nationality,  thanks  to  the  "protection" 
system  prevalent  in  Morocco,  an  American  citizen.  Benlez- 
rah admits  that  his  consular  duties  are  not  engrossing,  nor 
are  they  profitable  ;  for  he  receives  no  pay  except  in  the  form 
of  infrequent  fees  ;  but  he  holds  to  his  office  most  tenaciously 
because  the  United  States  has  power  to  naturalize  all  its 
servants  in  Morocco,  and  to  grant  them  what  are  called 
"  protection  papers.  "  Were  he  not  thus  protected  by  some 
foreign  power,  the  Sultan's  assessor  would,  he  assures  us, 
soon  strip  him  of  his  comfortable  fortune  gained  in  com- 
merce. A  few  days  later  we  visited  Mr.  Benlezrah  at  his 
home  in  the  Jewish  quarter,  where  we  find  him  surrounded 
by  his  family.  A  high  sepulchral  bed,  something  between  an 
Oriental  shrine  and  the  proscenium  of  a  Punch  and  Judy 
theater,  is  the  dominating  feature  of  his  drawing-room. 
During  our  call  our  host  tells  us  more  about  the  protection 


''''^#%,:^"- 


FEZ 


i6i 


system.  It  ap- 
pears that  all  rich 

men   in   Morocco 

are  subject  to  the 

most    barefaced 

robbery    by    the 

Sultan    and    his 

ministers.    When 

in  need  of  funds, 

the  government 

notifies  its  chosen 

victim  that  a  large 

contribution  for 

the  coffers  of  the 

sacred  Sultan  will 

assure    the    giver 

of    the    imperial 

favor,  and  that  a 

refusal    to     obey 

the    hint   will   be 

followed  by  im- 
prisonment or 

confiscation,  or  both.      But  men  protected  by  foreign  powers 

cannot    be    imprisoned    or    punished    until    tried    for    their 

offenses  before 
the  consular 
court  in  Tangier, 
and  are  there- 
fore  practically 
insured  against 
""  the  cupidity  of 
corrupt  imperial  officials. 
Thus  every  Moor  or 
Jew,  possessed  of  wealth, 
11 


MK.    BhNLEZRAH    AT    HOME 


i62  FEZ 


« 


TWO   OF   THE   SULTAN  S    CABINET 


desires  the  protection  of 
a  foreign  nation.  Protec- 
tion being  such  a  boon, 
abuses  have  naturally  at- 
tached themselves  to  the 
granting  of  it. 
.  f  ,  The    Moorish  govern- 

«^  .  V\  ':  J  ment  has  complained  that 

gi»,  WW  consuls  of  the  European 

nations,  yes,  even  of  the 
United  States,  have  been 
guilty  of  selling  for  cash 
the  protection  of  their  re- 
spective flags  to  wealthy 
Moors  and  Jews.  To  the 
Jew,  protection  is  indeed 
a  special  blessing,  since  it 
gives  him  the  right  to  ride  on  horseback  or  muleback  through 
these  streets,  where  other  Jews  must  walk.  It  permits  him 
to  pass  the  doorways  of  the  mosques  without  stopping  to 
remove  his  shoes,  while  other  Jews  must  bare  their  feet  each 
time  they  near  the  sacred  gates. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  the  current  calendar  in  Fez 
is  not  that  of  A.  D.  1907  ;  but  it  is  for  the  year  1325,*  after 
the  Hegira  of  Mohammed,  and  the  Moors  are  about  six  cen- 
turies behind  the  times  ! 

These  Mohammedans  of  Fez  not  only  do  not  permit  the 
Jew  to  pass  the  mosque  with  shoes  upon  his  feet,  but  they  do 
not  permit  any  infidel  to  enter  their  sacred  places  ;  they  do 
not  permit  Jew  or  Christian  to  pause  to  look  in  at  the  doors, 
and  there  is  one  mosque,  the  Shrine  of  Mulai  Idrees,  the 
founder  of  Fez,  so  holy  that  no  unbeliever  is  permitted  even 
to  approach  it.  Across  the  streets  leading  thither  barriers  are 
placed  ;  the  Moors  stoop  and  pass  under  them  ;  the  Christian 


*  The  Mohammedan  lunar  year  being  several  days  shorter  than  our  solar  year,  makes 
the  Moslem  New  Year's  Day  a  movable  feast,  which  in  the  course  of  centuries  works  its 
way  through  all  the  seasons.  The  year  1325,  after  the  Hejira  of  Mohammed,  began  on 
February  14th,  Anno  Domini,  1907. 


FEZ 


165 


and  the  Jew,  on  pain  of 
death,  must  go  no  farther. 
Then  across  other  streets 
bars  are  placed  to  mark  the 
point  beyond  which  men  are 
not  allowed  to  pass  at  cer- 
tain  hours. 

One  portion  of  the  cool 
cellar-like  bazaar  is  sacred 
to  the  women,  who,  tem- 
porarily embarrassed,  bring 
hither  objects  that  they  wish 
to  sell.  Apparently  they  are 
not  eager  to  attract  pur- 
chasers, for  they  hide  what- 
ever they  may  have  beneath 
their  haiks  ;  but  now  and 
then  a  man  approaches,  and 
an  embroidered  vest,  a  piece 
of  silk,  a  jewel  or  a  ring  is 
reluctantly  brought  forth  and 
passed  across  the  barrier  in 
exchange  for  silver  coins  ;  then  one  white,  shrouded  figure 
rises  and  fades  away  amid  the  ghostly  throng.  To  us,  new- 
comers to  this  land  of  mystery,  it  is  as  disconcerting  to  face 
a  crowd  of  these  women,  as  for  the  soldier  to  stand  unmoved 
before  masked  batteries.  We  are  conscious  that  two  score 
of  bright,  black  eyes  are  leveled  at  us,  but  we  cannot  read 
the  message  they  project  —  the  faces  that  would  make  the 
message  legible  are  veiled.  Are  the  lips  curled  in  scorn  of 
the  infidel  ?  Are  smiles  of  ridicule  excited  by  his  strange 
foreign  dress,  so  pitifully  convenient  and  unpicturesque,  so 
tight,  so  graceless,  when  compared  to  the  splendid  sweep  of 
the  Moorish  costume  ?     Or,  in  some  faces,  is  there  written  a 


NEARING    A    PORTAL   OF   THE    KARUEEIN 


1 66 


FEZ 


deep,  bitter  yearning  for  knowledge  of  the  outside  living 
world, —  the  world  of  to-day,  of  which  we  stray  moderns 
come  here  as  reminders  ?  But  as  we  wander  ever  through 
the  bazaars,  meeting  everywhere  the  same  impassive,  un- 
curious  expressions  on  the  uncovered  faces  of  the  men,  we 
are  inclined  to  believe  that  to  the  Moor,  Morocco  is  the 
world, —  that  for  him,  outside  its  borders,  geographically  or 
intellectually,  there  is  nothing  worthy  his  consideration.  A 
few  progressive  Moors,  so  we  were  told,  evince  a  shadowy 
interest  in  the  universe  at  large  by  subscribing  for  a  daily 
paper.  This  paper  is  not  printed  in  Fez,  where  journalism 
is  unknown,  it  comes  from  far-off  Cairo  on  the  Nile,  and 
reaches  its  eager  Moorish  readers  after  a  voyage  of  seven 
days  by  sea  and  eight  by  land. 

Remembering  these  things,  it  is  difficult  to  believe  that 
Fez  is,  in  the  eyes  of  the  Mohammedans,  an  important  seat 
of  learning,  but  so  it  is  ;  for  does  not  the  famous  university 
and  mosque,  known  as  the  Kariieem  stand  in  the  very  heart 
of  Fez.'*     The  Karueein,  a  sort  of  inner  "  holy  city  "  is,  next 

to  the  mosque  of 
M  u  1  a  i  Idrees,  the 
most  sacred  inclos- 
ure  in  Fez  :  As  we 
approach  it,  we  are 
warned  by  Haj  that 
Christians  are  not 
permitted  even  to 
pause  and  glance 
into  its  courts  when 
passing  any  of  its 
many  portals.  The 
imperfect  pictures 
that    will    reveal    to 


A    COURTYARD    OF  THE   INVIOLABLE    KARUEEIN 


you   vague    gUmpses 


FEZ 


167 


of  its  dark  corridors 
and  sunlit  patios  are 
the  result  of  oft-re- 
peated efforts,  risks, 
and  subterfuges. 
The  entrances  are 
jealously  guarded  by 
the  faithful  ;  the  Jew 
or  Christian  who 
lingers  on  the  thresh- 
old is  rudely  jostled 
by  the  passers-by, 
and  if  he  does  not 
take  the  hint,  a  sud- 
den surging  of  the 
crowd  sweeps  h  i  m 
away.  Three  morn- 
ings were  devoted 
to  vain  attempts  to 
bring  the  camera  to 
bear  upon  those 
gates.  But  finally  a 
fourth  attempt,  aided  by  strategy,  met  with  success.  Opposite 
every  gate  are  groups  of  beggars,  crouching  in  the  narrow 
street.  Strolling  with  ostentatious  carelessness,  the  camera, 
wrapped  like  a  paper  parcel,  under  my  arm,  I  pause  before 
the  beggars,  my  back  turned  to  the  sacred  entrances,  and 
fumble  in  my  pocket  for  stray  coppers.  No  one  sees  any 
reason  for  interfering  with  the  charitable  stranger  ;  but, 
mingled  with  the  chink  of  the  coins  dropped  into  the  out- 
stretched palms,  there  might  have  been  heard  the  clicks  of  a 
photographic  shutter,  fired  almost  at  random,  and  these 
pictures  here  shown  are  the  rewards  of  my  charity,  so  hypo- 
critically bestowed,      I  had  had  faith  in  my  ability  finally  to 


A    KIOSK    OF   THE   KARUEeFn 


i68 


FEZ 


accomplish  my  sinful  task  ;  I  had  been  buoyed  up  by  the 
hope  of  success,  but  while  I  had  not  charity,  my  efforts  did 
not  profit  me. 

The  Karueein  is  the  greatest  educational  institution  of 
western  Barbary.  Nor  must  we  smile  to  hear  it  called  by  so 
proud  a  name.  Its  past  entitles  it  to  the  respect  of  the 
world.  It  ranked  with  the  great  colleges  of  Moorish  Spain  — 
with  Cordova  itself  —  as  a  seat  of  learning,  and  hither  came 
not  only  Moslems,  from  all  corners  of  Islam,  but  also  noble 
gentlemen  from  England,  France,  and  Spain,  to  complete 
their  educations.  Yes,  as  we  glance  into  another  patio, 
where  a  green  tiled  kiosk  recalls  the  Court  of  the  Lions  of  the 

Alhambra,  we  must 
not  forget  that  here 
philosophy  once 
flourished,  here  as- 
tronomy, mathemat- 
ics, and  medicine 
once  were  more  fully 
developed  than  at 
any  other  place  in 
the  contemporary 
world.  In  the  inac- 
cessible library  of  the 
Kariieein,  the  lost 
books  of  Euclid  are 
said  to  be  molder- 
ing,  also  many  clas- 
sics, fragments  for 
which  scholars  have 
been  seeking.  But 
these  things  will  not 
be  brought  to  light 
WHERE  MEN  ARE  TAUGHT  v\  "  IN  I  Kill  c  I  lAi,  Mr.M.Miis"    uutil  the  death  •knell 


FEZ 


169 


of  Morocco 's  independence  shall  have  sounded.  The  Karfieein 
to-day  stands  here  in  the  heart  of  Fez,  as  the  center  of  resist- 
ance to  all  progress,  as  the  embodiment  of  slumber  ;  yet 
here  are  gathered  even  in  our  day  more  than  a  thousand 
students,  four  hundred  of  them  supported  by  an  endowment 
fund  dating   from  the  twelfth  century.      That  is,  their  food  is 


THE  WEST 


iFyi£oirfif/>AN[AMi  THE  EAST 


/^founfji^s 


MAP   OF     THE  WORLD    A5   U5ED  BY   mi     univeR5ITY  OF     fEZ     A.D.  183?. 


provided  for  them  gratis,  their  lodging  costs  them  nothing, 
for  they  sleep  under  the  arcades  of  the  Mosque  or  in  its 
spacious  courts.  They  are  taught  by  wise  men  — ' '  Taleebs  ' ' — 
men  who  are  intellectual  mummies.  They  learn  to  repeat 
the  Koran  word  for  word  ;  they  learn  to  hate  the  unbeliever, 
to  scorn  his  science  and  inventions,  to  turn  their  backs  upon 
all  things  that  are  new  ;  they  are  encouraged  to  cling  to  the 
old  dream  of  Islam,  and  to  worship  the  God  of  their  fathers 
in  this  holy  mosque.  They  are  taught  the  forms  and  simple 
ceremonials  of  the  Moslem  faith  ;  to  wash  the  feet  at  the 
fountain  before  entering  the  sanctuary  ;  to  leave  their  yellow, 
heel-less  slippers  in  the  court ;  to  kneel,  or  rise,  or  prostrate 
themselves  at  proper  intervals  ;  to  pray  five  times  each  day  ; 
to  turn  their  faces  while  they  pray  toward  the  sacred  city 


I/O 


FEZ 


Mecca  in  the  East  ;  to  drink  no  wine,  to  eat  no  pork,  to  keep 
with  cruel  rigor  the  long  fast  of  the  Ramadan,  when  for  forty 
days  they  may  not  touch  food,  drink,  or  tobacco  between  the 
rising  of  the  sun  and  the  going  down  of  the  same.  As  for 
their  secular  teaching,  it  is  refreshingly  original.  A  map  of  the 
world,  the  use  of  which  is  sanctioned  by  the  faculty, 
throws  much  interesting  light 
upon  the  Moorish  geographic 
point  of  view.  An 
examination   of   the 


"  AIR  OF  desolation" 


map  shows  that  Tangier, 
although  a  Moorish  port,  is  placed  on 
the  north  side  of  the  Mediterranean,  while  Spain,  apparently, 
is  next  door  to  Morocco,  on  the  coast  of  Africa.  The  results 
of  Stanley's  explorations  are  outlined  with  remarkable  angu- 
larity and  distinctness  around  the  sources  of  the  Nile  and  the 
Mountains  of  the  Moon.  England,  though  not  named,  is 
represented  by  one  of  the  islands  just  north  of  India  and 
Thibet ;  moreover,  the  latest  Moorish  expedition  to  the  north 
pole  has  evidently  reported  that  Gog  and  Magog  abide  amid 
the  frozen  seas,   for  they   figure  on  the  map. 


FEZ 


171 


"first   comes  a  squad  of  soldiers"       i^. 


Every  spring  the  students  i^' 
of  the  Karfieem,  who  are  called  "Tholbas,  "  go  forth  from 
Fez,  and  pitch  a  great  camp  in  the  plain.  They  elect  one 
of  their  number  "Sultan  of  the  Tholbas,"  and  to  him  all 
must  pay  reverence.  Even  the  veritable  Sultan  himself 
must  ride  out  in  state  and  call  upon  Student  Sultan  in  the 


THE    THOLBA    CAMP 


(72 


FEZ 


1 


MODERN    MOORISH    SOLDIERY 


Tholbas'  camp,  treating  him  as  an  Imperial  brother. 
The  expenses  of  this  scholastic  picnic  are  paid  by  contribu- 
tions exacted  by  the  Tholbas  from  the  citizens  of  Fez. 
Returning  from  our  visit  to  this  camp,  we  make  our  way 
once  more  into  the  official  quarter  of  New  Fez,  through  which 
we  passed  so  hurriedly  the  day  of  our  arrival.  The  same  grim 
walls  are  there,  the  frowning  towers,  and  the  air  of  desolation. 
To  our  great  regret  we  have  learned  that  the  Imperial  Master, 
Mulai  El-Hasan,  Sultan  of  Morocco,  will  not  return  to  Fez 
until  long  after  our  departure.  He  is  at  present  on  the  march 
across  the  southern  deserts,  returning  from  a  journey  of  eigh- 
teen months'  duration  to  the  rebellious  province  of  Tafilet, 
on  the  border  of  the  Great  Sahara.  Small  wonder  that  the 
New  Fez  appears  deserted  ;  for  when  his  Imperial  Majesty 
goes  upon  a  journey,  he  is  followed  by  no  less  than  a  quarter 


FEZ 


173 


of  the  population  of  Fez,  30,000  people,  —  ofBcials,  soldiers, 
servants,  and  wives  and  slaves.  But  we  are,  nevertheless,  to 
see  a  remnant  of  his  retinue,  for  suddenly  a  crowd  appears 
as  if  by  magic,  and  the  square  takes  on  an  air  of  life  and 
animation. 

First  comes  a  squad  of  soldiers,  marching  to  the  beating 
of  a  drum.  They  wear  the  hideous  modern  uniform  of  the 
new  Moorish  army — an  army  that  has  been  created  within 
the  past  few  years  by  a  foreign  officer  on  the  Imperial  staff,  a 
Scotchman,  Kaid  Maclean,  who  has  transformed  the  ragged 
unkempt  hordes  of  his  Imperial  Master  into  an  army  with  some 
pretensions  to   discipline   and   equipment,    although  to   us   it 


THE  GATHERING  AT  THE   GATE  OF  JUSTICE 


1/4 


FEZ 


WITH    THE   BRITISH    VICE-CONSUL 


appears  almost  grotesque.  The  uniform  chosen  gives  the 
private  soldier  the  aspect  of  a  simian  pet  of  an  organ-grinder, 
a  little  overgrown.  Judging  by  their  appearance  we  are  pre- 
pared to  see  these  w^ar- 
riors  doff  their  caps  and 
pass  them  around  for 
coppers  ;  but  this  is  less 
the  fault  of  the  soldiers 
than  of  the  military 
tailor ;  the  same  men 
robed  in  long  flowing 
garments  would,  in  all 
probability,  appear  as 
dignified  as  the  civili- 
ans. We  had  the  curi- 
osity to  examine  their 
weapons,  and  we  were 
rewarded    by  discover- 


CAPTURING   A    FORT    WITH    CAMERAS 


FEZ 


175 


ing    several    muzzle-loading    rifles,    bearing    the    inscription, 
"Springfield,    Massachusetts,     1865." 

The  first  awkward  squad  is  followed  by  another  and 
another,  until  the  great  square,  bisected  by  a  long  procession 
of  those  red-coated  fighters,  appears  like  a  ravine  through 
which  there  flows  a  river  of  blood.  Meantime,  from  the  por- 
tal of  the  palace  there  emerges  with  solemnity  and  slowness  a 
stately  company  of  white-robed  Moors,  some  mounted  upon 
superbly  harnessed  mules,  followed  by  spotlessly  arrayed  dig- 
nitaries and  courtiers  on  foot ;  and  in  the  midst  of  these  rides 
the  Viceroy  of  Fez.  We  dared  not  raise  our  cameras  as  he 
passed,  for  the  crowds  regarded  us  with  hostility,  and  the 
picture  we  secured  shows  only  his  retreating  form,   towering 

above  the  heads  of  his  attendants. 


"  THERE  ARE  GARDENS  AND  ORCHARDS  ' 


176 


FEZ 


A    r.IPIXiMATI 


The  procession  enters  the  huge  "  Gate  of  Justice."  On 
the  left  we  discern  a  hne  of  crouching  figures,  those  who  have 
come  to  make  or  answer  charges  before  the  autocratic  tribunal. 
There  is  no  appeal  from  the  instantaneous  decisions  given  by 
the  old  Vizier  of  Justice.  Happy  the  citizen  who,  thanks  to 
the  protection  afforded  him  by  a  foreign  consul,  is  exempt 
from  being  dragged  to  this  bar  of  so-called  justice  ! 


"TRAILS  THAT  ARE  ALMOST  ROADS 


FEZ 


177 


The  only  Anglo- 
Saxon  representative 
in  Fez  is  His  Bri- 
tannic Majesty  '  s 
Vice-Consul,  Mr. 
Mac  Iver  Mac  Leod. 
For  downright  per- 
tinacity commend 
me  to  this  man,  who, 
in  the  face  of  an  en- 
tire nation's  opposi- 
tion, planted  himself 
in  Fez,  established  a 
vice-consulate,  and 
stuck  to  his  post  un- 
til the  Moors  gave  up 
the  fight  and  resolved 
to  tolerate  his  per- 
manent presence  in 
their  holy  city.  With  Mr.  Mac  Leod  we  enjoy  frequent  ex- 
cursions roundabout  the  city,  to  the  nearer  mountain  crests, 
and  to  the  abandoned  forts  upon  the  hill-tops,  whence 
splendid  views  of  Fez  are  to  be  had.  One  day,  finding  no 
practicable  doorway  to  one  of  those  deserted  strongholds,  we 
entered  boldly  through  the  embrasure  where  years  ago  the 
noses  of  old  cannon  had  breathed  threatenings  above  the 
once-rebellious  city.  Affrighted  at  our  daring,  my  youthful 
camera-bearer  dropped  the  case  and  fled. 

There  are  orchards  and  gardens  in  the  environs  of  Fez, 
and  there  are  trails  that  are  almost  roads,  radiating  in  all 
directions.  We  are  invariably  accompanied  by  an  escort 
when  we  ride  forth  from  Fez  ;  the  country  roundabout  is  not 
safe.  The  British  Vice-Consul  always  brings  his  followers, 
and  insists  that  we  shall  order  out  Kaid  Lharbi,  our  pictur- 
12 


llIK    \IC£:-CONSrLAR    VILLA 


178 


FEZ 


BRITISH    SOCIETY    IN    FEZ 


esque  old  soldier-chaperon,  every  time  we  venture  beyond  the 
crumbling  walls. 

The  Vice-Consulate  is  in  the  old  Medina,  in  the  heart  of 
Fez  ;  but  Mr.  MacLeod  lives  in  the  garden  region.  A  pretty 
Moorish  villa  has  been  transformed  into  an  English  home, 
presided  over  by  the  Vice-Consul's  mother,  who  has  exiled 
herself  from  England  to  spend  her  days  with  her  courageous 
son  in  Fez. 

' '  But  I  am  not  the  only  Christian  woman  in  Fez, ' '  Mrs. 
MacLeod  assures  us,  in  reply  to  our  remark  that  she  must 
sorely  miss  the  companionship  of  people  of  her  own  race  and 
religion.  "  If  3'ou  will  dine  with  us  on  Sunday,  you  will  meet 
the  five  Tabeebas.  "  We  accepted  the  invitation,  and  met 
the  "five  Tabeebas,  "  each  one  a  study  for  a  statue  of  Lot's 
wife  after  she  had  so  unwisely  looked  over  her  left  shoulder. 
Pillars  of  salt  they  look,  and  in  truth  they  are  the  salt  of  this 
cruel  Moorish  land.  They  are  Christian  women,  angels  of 
mercy,  missionaries, —  but  not  ordinary  missionaries, — -theirs 
is  a  medical  mission, —  a  mission  through  which  no  energy  is 
wasted,  against  which  no  criticism  can  be  urged. 


FEZ 


1/9 


Among  them  are  three  English  women,  one  Irishwoman,  and 
one  Scotch  lassie.  Their  work  is,  of  necessity,  chiefly  with 
the  bodies  rather  than  with  the  souls  of  those  they  seek  to  aid  ; 
for  they  realize,  as  every  sane-minded  Christian  must,  that  to 
Christianize  Moorish  Mohammedans  is  an  impossibility  unless 
the  missionary  first  wins  the  confidence  and  love  of  the  people 
through  many  palpable  and  self-evident  deeds  of  benevolence. 

The  dress  of  these  women  is  but  another  expression  of 
their  innate  tact.  If  they  insisted  upon  going  abroad  in  the 
streets  with  uncovered  faces,  they  would  immediately  lose  the 
respect  and  confidence  of  the  people  who  have  learned  to  love 
them  for  their  numberless  good  works.  They  occupy  a  large 
house  in  the  densely  populated  quarter,  a  home  which  is  by 
turns  a  school  or  a  hospital.  Here  they  teach  Moorish  girls 
manv  useful  things  ;  here  every  day  they  receive  and  treat. 


THE    TABEEBAS 


180 


FEZ 


1 

|n 

M| 

m 

iii 

^ 
^ 

1 

ii 

^^B^HHP 

tj 

■  :-::i^. 

.'^ 

» 

. 1 

J 

1  linn    1  j_l 

'     1 

IP 

i-i 

1^ 

Ik^ 

PPi 

J 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^H 

"' ' ' 

^■X^ 

.    1   »,««*•. 

* 

^'-^ 

f '"" 

-  ^    % 

ll»5 

1^ 

«i-«'-«P4r 

f 

JS^^ 

^^ 

J\mmr/ 

' 

Ikl^L^ 

1 

tM^ 

^1^- 

THE  TA';ni;nAs  teaching 


free  of  charge,  as  many  patients  as  present  themselves.  One 
afternocn  while  we  were  taking  tea  with  the  Tabeebas,  they 
were  repeatedly  called  from  the  room  to  dress  a  v/ound,  apply 
an  ointment,  or  give  advice  to  some  poor  sufferer.  Of  course 
we  were  not  permitted  to  see  the  Moorish  girls  who  come  to 
the  Tabeebas '  school.  To  secure  a  photograph  of  them  my 
camera  was  lent  to  one  of  the  Tabeebas,  who  secretly  made 
an  exposure  from  behind  a  door  that  stood  ajar.  Did  the 
parents  of  these  young  girls  know  of  the  making  of  the  pic- 
ture, there  would  be  no  pupils  here  upon  the  morrow.  The 
faces  in  the  group  are  faces  on  which  no  man  may  look,  unless 
he  be  the  father,  brother,  or  husband. 

Let  us  steal  away  through  the  mysterious,  fascinating 
streets  and  byways  that  lead  us,  with  a  hundred  puzzling 
turns,  back  to  our  peaceful  villa. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  our  neighbors  have  not  called 
upon  us,  nor  indicated  by  any  sign  that  they  are  conscious  of 


FEZ 


iSi 


our  presence  in  this  aristocratic  precinct.  Walls  from  fifteen 
to  twenty  feet  in  height  surround  our  garden,  cutting  us  off 
completely  from  the  public  streets  and  from  the  garden  of  our 
next-door  neighbors.  Our  curiosity  concerning  that  adjoin- 
ing garden  and  the  family  that  dwelt  therein  increased  from 
day  to  day.  Apparently  an  interminable  picnic  is  in  progress 
there  ;  for  three  days  past  we  have  been  hearing  the  shouts  of 
children  at  play  and  the  strange  shrill  cry  peculiar  to  Moorish 
women,  a  piercing  tremolo,  to  which  they  give  utterance  in 
token  of  joyfulness.  It  might  be  called  the  ' '  college  yell  ' '  of 
these  Oriental  wives  —  pupils  in  the  school  of  submission. 

Finally  we  can  resist  no  longer  ;  we  must  learn  what  is 
passing  there  on  the  other  side  of  that  high  wall.      But  how  ^ 


OUR   VILLA    FROM    THE   STRKET 


I82 


FEZ 


W\  ^^I^B^ 

^^bb^ 

|H 

K^  ■  ^^4fBHI^v^  ^1 

H^ 

f^^^^^^i 

^^^^B 

'^1 

^^^^^HI^Cv^     ^'IPa^w  -^  flt 

s 

1 

^^^S9^^2.iKii 

■ 

^1 

A   STOLEN   PEEP   OVER    GARDEN   WALL 


We  dare  not  show  our  heads  for  fear  some  jealous  Moor  may 
smash  them.  We  resolve  to  make  a  cat's-paw  of  the  faithful 
camera  to  snatch  curiosity -satisfying  chestnuts  out  of  the 
fire  of  Moslem  exclusiveness.  We  climb  a  ladder,  lift  the 
camera,  upside-down,  above  the  wall,  take  aim  by  looking  up 
into  the  inverted  finder,  fire,  and  withdraw  precipitately.  The 
result  was  worth  the  risk  and  effort.  The  plate  revealed  a 
scene  from  private  family  life  in  Fez,  —  the  picture  of  a  rich 
Moor's  wives  and  children  attended  by  black  slaves,  taking 
their  ease  in  the  absolute  seclusion  of  their  garden,  brewing 
and  drinking  Moorish  tea,  as  they  sit  on  a  tiled  platform  that 
surrounds  a  bathing  tank.  The  foreshortening  of  the  figures 
may  be  at  first  a  trifle  puzzling  ;  remember  we  are  looking, 
or,  rather,  the  camera  is  looking  down  upon  the  group  from 
over  a  garden-wall  that  is  not  less  than  twenty  feet  in  height. 
Fortunately,  the  attention  of  the  family  had  been  attracted 
by  something  occurring  just  out  of  our  range  of  vision,  though 


^fl^^^^^^^H^H 

^H 

r 

At 

Mm  f 't 

1 

H| 

i..  ^1 

^H 

Ki 

[m 

^^^^^H 

Ir'Hi 

JH^^^^^H 

w 

^^^^^^^H[«'^ 

^^^^^^H"^' 

H^^^^^H 

Wr 

^<  - 

l^^Mk^'  ""^ 

^     '^HjH 

^^^^HflME^^^^^ 

^v^'V' -v           '^li^^^^^^^^^^^^^^H 

discovered: 


FEZ 


185 


we  knew  nothing  of  this  at  the  time.  The  negative  was  not 
developed  till  we  reached  America,  so  the  camera  recorded  a 
scene  which  we  ourselves  have  never  looked  upon.  Encour- 
aged by  the  silence  following  our  first  attempt,  we  chose 
another  section  of  the  wall  and  repeated  our  manceuver.  Un- 
fortunately a  preliminary  click  was  heard  by  our  sitters,  whose 
startled  expressions,  faithfully  registered,  prove  that  they  have 
seen  the  guilty  lens  and  shutter  winking  at  them  from  the 
summit  of  the  wall.  Some  have  already  hid  their  faces, 
others  are  apparently  crying  out  in  protest ;  even  the  dog,  like 
a  good  Mohammedan,  turns  his  back  to  the  "painting  ma- 
chine. "  The  unique  picture  tells  us  what  manner  of  women 
is  concealed  by  the  shroudlike  garments,  which  are  worn  in 
the  streets  and  which  make  women,  be  they  young,  old,  rich, 
poor,  beautiful,  or  ugly,  appear  as  like,  one  to  another,  as  are 
bales  of  woolen  cloth.  Street  life  in  Fez  is  for  women  a  per- 
petual masquerade,  a  lifelong  domino  party.  But  in  these 
high- walled  gardens  all  the  participants  unmask,  throw  off 
their  haiks,  and  during  the  home  hours  regain  an  individuality 
of  visage,  form,  and  dress.  This  revelation  of  the  inner  life 
of  Fez  makes  the  city  seem  more 
human  to  us,  less  like  a  city  of  spec- 
ters, ghosts,  and  animated  mummies. 
Nevertheless  these  people  seem  not 
quite  real  to  us,  for 

we  did  not  actually     |^-^..  ■...- -  - 

see  them,  nor  did 
they  see  us,  face  to  face.  Next 
day  two  huge  black  men-slaves 
came  to  notify  us  that  if  any 
more  mysterious  boxes  appeared 
over  the  garden-wall  their  master, 
now  absent,  should  be  informed, 
and   our   departure    hastened. 


GREETS   US   WITH 
LOUD    howls" 


1 86 


FEZ 


NEIGHBORS 


We  had  one  neighbor,  however,  who  was  more  sociable  ; 
in  fact,  he  became  painfully  familiar.  He  lived  at  a  street 
corner  where  he  enjoyed  a  squatter-right,  for  he  had  been 
squatting  there  without  intermission  for  five  years  or  more. 
The  man  is  crazy.  He  invariably  greets  us  with  loud  howls, 
and  insists  upon  it  that  we  are  "his  mothers  !  "  Then,  like 
a  whining  child,  he  teases  for  matches  with  which  to  light  a 
fire.  He  has  a  mania  for  collecting  brushwood,  building  fires, 
and  then  extinguishing  them  by  calmly  sitting  down  upon  the 
flames,  much  to  the  detriment  of  his  cuticle  and  raiment. 
When  his  clothes  are  burned  completely  off,  he  counts  upon 
his  prudish  neighbors  for  a  new  garb.  Altogether,  he  is 
decidedly  eccentric  even  for  a  madman  ;  and  he  must  be  very 


FEZ 


187 


mad,  for  he  either  refuses  money,  or,  when  it  is  thrust  upon 
him,  tosses  it  away  to  other  beggars  who  are  always  crouch- 
ing near. 

Toward  the  close  of  our  visit  we  managed  to  scrape 
acquaintance  with  the  servants  of  another  neighbor.  One 
was  a  veiled  woman,  who  would  smile  at  us  through  her 
mask,  and  another  a  fat  negress  slave,  as  unctuous  and  good- 
natured  as  any  Mississippi  mammy.  "And  are  there  really 
slaves  in  Fez .''  ' '  some  one  may  ask.  There  are  ;  and  every 
day  in  a  certain  remote  and  cheerless  market-place  young 
negresses  are  sold  at  auction.  Seldom,  however,  does  a 
stranger  witness  this  trafficking  in  human  flesh.  At  his 
approach,  buyers  and  sellers,  slaves  and  auctioneers,  mys- 
teriously vanish.  Thrice  we  found  the  market-place  deserted. 
Twice,  owing  to  the  skillful  manceuvering  of  our  guide,  we  sur- 
prised the  market  in  full  swing,  and  saw  six  little  negro  girls, 


THE  PALACE  OF  A  RICH  OFFICIAL 


i88 


FEZ 


AROUND    THK    MOORISH    MAHOGANY 


fresh  from  the  barbarous  regions  of  the  south,  purchased  by 
solemn  white-robed  citizens  at  prices  varying  from  eighty  to 
two  hundred  dollars. 

But  do  not  think  because  our  neighbors  do  not  call  upon 
us  that  we  receive  no  social  courtesies  whatever.  On  the 
contrary,  the  Minister  of  Finance,  the  Moorish  Secretary  of 
the  Treasury,  one  of  the  highest  and  by  a  curious  coincidence 
one  of  the  richest  dignitaries  in  Morocco,  one  day,  invited  us 
to  dinner.  The  invitation  was  delivered  through  the  British 
vice-consul,  who  promised  to  accompany  us  and  to  see  that  we 
made  no  faux  pas.  We  were  not  rude  enough  to  take  a 
camera  with  us,  knowing  the  prejudices  of  the  Moors,  and 
therefore  I  have  no  picture  of  the  gorgeous  palace  into  the 
courtyard  of  which  we  were  ushered  by  a  group  of  slaves. 
Our  host  resembled  the  rich  men  we  see  daily  in  the  streets. 


FEZ 


189 


being  princely  in  bearing,  haughty  and  reserved.  Contrary 
to  Moorisli  custom,  we  sat  at  a  table  and  on  chairs,  instead 
of  on  the  floor.  There  were  no  other  guests.  As  soon  as  we 
were  seated,  Mr.  MacLeod  took  from  his  pocket  a  paper 
parcel  and  opened  it,  displaying  three  pairs  of  knives  and 
forks. 

"I  always  carry  these  when  I  dine  out  with  the  Moorish 
swells;  they  don't  have  any,"  he  explained;  "and  they  like 
to  haA'e  me  bring  them  when  they  are  entertaining  foreign 
guests." 

"But  how  do  they  eat.?"  we  asked. 

"Watch  his  excellency,  and  you'll  soon  understand." 

At  this  moment  there  appeared  a  huge  round  platter,  three 
feet  in  diameter,  on  which  has  been  erected  a  pyramid  of 
chickens.     To  each  of  us  an  entire  bird  was  given.     Then  our 


CARRYING   BAKED   MEATS   TO   A   FEAST 


I90 


FEZ 


host,  with  deft  fingers,  tore  his  portion  very  neatly  into  shreds, 
picked  out  the  choicest  morsels  of  the  chicken  and  passed 
them  to  us.  Then  followed  pyramids  of  pigeons,  then  huge 
chunks  of  mutton,  then  sausages  on  spits  ;  and  that  those 
sausages  were  not  less  than  two  inches  thick  and  one  foot 
long  I  am  positively  certain,  because  we  each  were  compelled 
to  take  a  whole  one,  and  I  remember  my  vain  efforts  to  get 
it  all  upon  my  plate,  three  inches  of  protruding  sausage 
threatening  the  table-cloth  on  each  side.  And  every  course 
was  carved  by  our  host,  who  used  nothing  sharper  than  his 
finger-nails,  and  every  time  he  came  upon  a  morsel  of  espe- 
cial daintiness,  he  courteously  offered  it  to  one  of  us.  We 
were  almost  stuffed  to  death,  for  the  consul  warned  us  that  to 
refuse  the  proffered  tidbits  would  be  a  great  affront.  There 
were  no  sauces,  no  vegetables,  nothing  but  meats  roasted 
underground  by 
slow  fires  that  had 
burned  all  night. 
We  had  noth- 
ing with  which  to 
wash  down  this 
' '  all  too  solid 
food  except  sick- 
ly lukewarm  rose- 
water.  And  not 
content  with  stuff- 
ing us  and  forc- 
ing us  to  drink 
that  perfumed 
liquid,  our  host 
would  every  now 
and  then  give  a 
signal,  where- 
upon the  servants 

"LET  ME  UE  AN  AMERICAN  FOR  A  MINUTE!" 


FEZ 


191 


THE  "  MELLAH  "  OR  "  GHETTO  "  OF  FEZ 


would  spray  stronger  rosewater  down  our  backs  and  in  our 
ears.  Never  was  anything  more  welcome  than  the  tiny  cups 
of  Turkish  coffee  that  at  last  were  brought  to  end  our  tort- 
ures. I  could  not  blame  my  friend,  when,  on  our  return  to 
our  own  house,  he  declared  that  he  had  had  enough  of 
Oriental  luxury,  exclaiming  as  Haj  brought  the  "antidotes," 
* '  Let  me  be  an  American  for  a  minute  !  ' ' 

The  table  was  served  by  two  slaves,  and  by  a  young  man 
whose  bearing  told  us  that  he  was  no  servant.  He  was,  in 
fact,  the  eldest  son  of  our  host.  Custom  commands  that  the. 
son  should  wait  upon  the  father's  guests.  Imagine  this  cus- 
tom introduced  at  Washington,  and  picture  the  sons  of  a 
cabinet-official  passing  huge  finger-bowls  around  the  banquet 
table  ! 

As  for  our  conversation,  it  turned  first  upon  the  only  mod- 
ern institution  in  the  city,  the  Arsenal  and  Rifle  Factory  of 
the  Sultan.     The  secretary  spoke    of    course  in  Arabic,   the 


192 


FEZ 


Tice-consul  acting  as  interpreter.  Then  we  were  questioned 
regarding  the  city  whence  we  come,  Chicago  ;  and,  being 
native-born  Chicagoans,  no  urging  was  required  to  wring 
from  us  the  story  of  the  great  phoenix  city  on  the  shore  of  the 
American  inland  sea.  We  described  "  skyscrapers,  "  elevat- 
ors, cable-cars,  and  trolleys.  Then  we  told  of  the  World's 
Fair,   visited  in  one  day  by  seven  times  more    people    than 


"A    PLACE  OF   WHITED    SEPULCHERS  ' 


reside  in  Fez,  and  then  with  a  keener  interest  the  secretary 
listened  to  the  incredible  figures  relating  to  the  movements  of 
wheat  and  corn  and  to  the  shipments  of  beef  and  mutton. 
Next,  as  a  climax,  we  launched  enthusiastically  into  pork 
statistics,  but  our  spokesman  checks  us  with  the  caution  : 
"Hush!  Don't  shock  his  Excellency;  remember  his  relig- 
ious prejudices.  Don't  say  a  word  about  the  pigs.  You 
know  the  Moslem  eats  no  pork."  Therefore  we  leave  our 
host  unenlightened  regarding  the  pet  industry  of  our  western 
metropolis. 


FEZ 


195 


The  next  day  we  devote  to  the  Jewish  quarter,  a  distinct 
and  separate  city,  called  the  "  Mellah.  "  We  approach  it 
through  the  Hebrews'  burial  ground,  a  place  of  whited  sepul- 
chers,  dwellings  for  the  dead,  and  dingy  huts,  temporary 
abodes  for  living  men  and  women  ;  for  there  are  two  popula- 
tions in  the  Jewish  cemetery,  a  fixed  population  of  the  wealthy 
dead,  a  passing  population  of  the  living  poor.  You  must 
remember  that  in  these  Moorish  cities  the  Jews  are  still  com- 
pelled to  dwell  apart  from  true  believers.  Their  houses  are 
confined  in  the  restricted  Mellah,  where  no  provision  was 
originally  made  for  an  increase  of  population.  Therefore  the 
poorer  and  the  weaker  Jews  have  been  squeezed  out  of  its 
gates  and  have  found  refuge  here  in  the  city  of  the  dead, 
where  they  have  built  crude  huts  and  begun  life  anew.  The 
streets  or  passageways  are,  however,  far  cleaner  than  those 
of  the  in- 
ner M  e 
1 a  h ,  and 
we  cannot 
but  agree 
that  resi- 
dence  in 


POOR    NEIGHBORS   OF    THE   WEALTHY   DEAD 


196 


FEZ 


the  freer  atmosphere  of  this  city  of  the  dead  is  preferable 
to  living  on  the  other  side  of  yonder  walls,  vvhere  every  inch 
of  space  is  occupied,  where  the  atmosphere  is  heavy  with  bad 
odors,  and  where  sunshine  and  fresh  air  are  things  almost 
unknown. 

A  poor  old  Jew,  a  man  with  a  large  dependent  family, 
serves  as  our  guide.  He  tells  of  the  misery  of  his  people, 
begs  me  to  repeat  in  my  own  land  the  story  of  their  woe.      It 


A  HOME   IN  THE   CEMETERY 


FEZ 


197 


is  not  the  Sultan,  he 
says,  who  is  most 
cruel  to  them  ;  it  is 
the  rich  men,  the 
elders  and  the  rabbis 
of  his  own  tribe 
whom  he  accuses  of 
injustice. 

The  right  to  build 
these  shelters  in  the 
cemetery  was  grant- 
ed by  the  Sultan  to 
the  poor,  when  the 
overcrowding  of  the 
Mellah  proper  be- 
came a  menace  to 
the  public  health. 
Nevertheless,  no 
poor  man  is  permit-  \, 
ted  to  take  up  his 
abode  among  these 
cast-out  members  of  the  tribe  until  he  has  paid  certain 
fees  to  the  headmen  of  the  quarter.  He  says  that  the  op- 
pression of  Jew  by  Jew  is  harder  to  bear  than  the  much- 
talked-of  oppression  to  which  the  children  of  Israel  have 
been  subjected  by  the  Sons  of  Ishmael.  The  statements  of 
our  pauper  guide  surprised  us,  but  what  he  said  was  con- 
firmed by  every  poor  Jew  with  whom  we  talked.  They  all 
declared  that  the  rich  elders  and  the  rabbis  of  their  own  tribe 
were  their  hardest  masters.  A  wealthy  man,  with  whom  we 
discussed  the  question  later,  assured  us  that  his  class  had 
almost  impoverished  itself  with  charities,  that  the  cause  of  all 
the  evil  lay  in  the  decrease  of  commerce  and  the  rapid 
increase  of  the  Jewish  population.     The  poor,  undoubtedly, 


THE   WALLS   OK   THE 


198 


FEZ 


are  very  poor  ;  and  though  the  rich  live  in 
apparent  luxury  and  comfort,  it  cannot  be 
true  that  Fez  is  the  only  city  in  the  world 
where  the  rich  Jews  abandon  their  own 
people  to  starvation  and  distress.  The 
noble  Jewish  charities  throughout  the  world 
argue  the  contrary,  and  even  in  Fez  the 
philanthropy  of  European  Jews  is  manifest 
in  the  excellent  school  established  here  in 
this  very  Mellah  by  the  French  branch  of 
the  Israelite  Alliance. 

We  can  assure  all  those  who  have  given 
pecuniary  support  to  the  Alliance  that  the 
money  is  here  spent  conscientiously,  and 
that  the  work  now  doing  among  the  Moor- 
ish Jews  is  nobly  done  and  worthy  the  sym- 
pathy and  encouragement  of  every  lover 
of  humanity.      But  in  spite  of  the  educational  and  civilizing 


A    FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD   MOTHER 


IN   THE    MAZE   OF    REEKING    ALLEYS 


FEZ 


199 


influences  of  the  school,  many  reforms  in  customs  remain 
to  be  effected,  and  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  in  the  future, 
a  daughter  of  the  Mellah  will  not  be  given  in  marriage  at 
the  age  of  ten  and,  like  one  girl  we  saw,  be  mother  of  a 
family  at  fourteen  years  of  age,  and  become  at  twenty-five 
a  hideous  old  woman.  Let  us  hope  that  in  another  genera- 
tion girl-children  who  at  fourteen  are  still  unmarried  will 
not  be  regarded,  as  they  are  to-day,  in  the  light  of  hopeless 
spinsters. 

As  for  the  sanitary  reforms  demanded  in  the  Mellah,  you 
have  but  to  enter  the  crowded  streets  to  be  convinced  that 
they  are  numberless.  Here  Jews  are  packed  like  live  sar- 
dines in  greasy  boxes.  Pierre  Loti  describes  the  Mellah  as 
' '  an  airless  huddle  of  houses  squeezed  together  as  if  screwed 
in   a   compress,    and    emitting    all    sorts    of    stifling    odors. 


JEWISH     COBBLERS 


200 


FEZ 


"old  men  who  look  the  part  of  shvlock 


Again  he  tells  of  finding  here  ' '  moldy  smells  in  varieties  that 


are  not  known  elsewhere, 
cleanliness  on  the  part  of 
people  who  are  denied  a 
sufficiency  of  space  and 
air  and  light  and  water, 
who  are  not  permitted  to 
remove  the  refuse  from 
their    streets,    lest    the 


But  how  is  it  possible  to  expect 


AN    HNGLISH    HOME    IN    FEZ 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  THE  "  MELLAH 


FEZ 


203 


THE   FAMILY  OF   BENSIMON 


Moorish  scavenger  should  lose  his  fee  ;  people  who  are  de- 
spised by  their  Moslem  fellow-citizens,  called  "dogs,"  and 
forced  to  walk  barefooted  through  the  streets  of  Moorish  Fez  ? 
As  a  crowning  indignity,  the  Moors  have  decreed  that  the 
place  of  deposit  for  dead  animals,  from  cats  to  camels,  shall 
be  at  the  gate  of  the  Mellah  ;  and  every  night  the  jackals 
feast   and  sing  their  death   chants  beneath  the  walls  of  this 


ilN'i    .-^HiJi': 


jLU-    and    blL\  fc.R-SMU  us 


204 


FEZ 


unhappy  Jewish  city.  We  are  surprised,  however,  to  find 
here  and  there  a  touch  of  color  in  the  dress  of  these  unfortu- 
nate inhabitants,  for  black  has  always  been  the  uniform 
imposed  upon  the  Jew.  Black  is  to  Moorish  minds  the  color 
of  disgrace  ;  hence  were  the  Jews  compelled  to  wear  black 
caps  and  gaberdines.  To-day,  however,  this  regulation  is 
not  so  rigidly  enforced,  although  the  general  tone  of  the 
men's  dress  is  very  somber. 

In  every  street  we  see  old  men,  who  could,  without  a 
change  of  raiment,  step  on  the  theatrical  stage  and  look  the 
part  of  Shylock  to  the  life.  In  tiny  shops,  like  niches 
bordering  these  streets,  sit  the  gold-  and  silver-smiths,  the 
lawyers,  scribes,  and  money-changers  ;  there  are  few  idlers 
here.  Jewish  industry  and  thrift  here  rise  superior  to  the 
discouraging  surroundings.  A  few  shops  boast  a  supply  of 
foreign  merchandise.      The   merchants   greet  us  with  a  polite 

buoios  d/as ,"  and 
converse  in  i^uent  Span- 
ish ;  for  besides  Hebrew 
and  Arabic,  these  people 
speak  the  language  of  the 
and  from  which  their 
fathers  were  cruelly  cast 
out    by    Spanish     kings. 


FIVE   o'clock    tea    IN    A    HKHRliW    HOUSKHOLD 


FEZ 


205 


The  com- 
merce of  the 
land  is  largely 
in  the  hands  of 
Moorish  Jews, 
who  are  forbid- 
den by  law  to 
leave  the  coun- 
try, lest  a  gen- 
eral exodus 
occur,  and  the 
trade  of  the  en- 
tire empire,  de- 
prived of  their 
fostering  care, 
languish  and 
ultimately  die. 
Many  large  for- 
tunes have  been 

accumulated  here,  by  usury  and  commerce.  We  made  a 
formal  call  one  Sabbath  afternoon  at  the  home  of  one  of  the 
richest  Jews  in  Fez,  old  Mr.  Bensimon.  Magnificent,  indeed, 
is  the  interior  of  the  house,  with  its  carved,  painted  doors, 
its  stucco  arabesques,  immaculate  tiled  floors,  and  richly 
furnished  rooms.  The  Bensimons  are  of  the  old  conserva- 
tives. They  speak  no  Spanish  and  have  no  knowledge  of 
anything  away  from  their  immediate  surroundings.  The 
Mellah  is  their  world  ;  their  house  is  one  of  the  rare  oases 
of  elegance  in  the  midst  of  a  wilderness  of  squalor.  But 
they  are  all  very  gracious  to  us  ;  of  the  two  pretty  little  girls, 
eleven  and  thirteen  years  of  age,  respectively,  the  elder  is 
already  married,   the  younger  is  a  fiance'e. 

A  curious  incident  gave  us  an  insight  into  the  reality  of 
their  religion.      To  amuse  our  host  we  performed  some  tricks 


A   HEBREW    HOME 


2o6 


FEZ 


1 

IHH 

WeiStt 

jfij^gri|it^ 

J^W"^ 

^fe'^L '*- 

^r^  ^^jrikm^^^m 

AT  THE   SCHOOL  OF   THE    ISRAELITE    ALLIANCE 

of  sleight-of-hand.  Producing  a  silver  dollar,  I  asked  the 
aged  father  to  assure  himself  that  it  was  a  real  dollar,  not 
tampered  with  in  any  way.  He  seemed  reluctant  to  pick  up 
the  coin. 

"You  must  not  urge  him,"  said  our  guide.  "  It  is  the 
Jewish  Sabbath  ;  a  Jew  may  not  touch  filthy  lucre  on  the 
holy  day. 

Before  departing  we  were  asked  to  take  tea  with  the 
family,  and  were  forthwith  ushered  into  an  apartment,  fur- 
nished with  that  crude  gaudiness  that  is  the  result  of  Oriental 
imitation  of  Occidental  fashions.  Of  their  "European 
Room  "  they  are  as  proud  as  we  are  of  our  so-called 
"Oriental  dens."  The  mirrors,  clocks,  sofas,  and  chande- 
liers, imported  from  the  continent,  are  the  envy  of  their 
neighbors. 

Tea-drinking  in  Morocco  is  a  solemn  ceremony,  to  the 
stranger  almost  a  sickening  one.  A  handful  of  tea  is  put  in 
the  teapot,  and  the  pot  is  filled  to  the  very  top  with  sugar, 
broken  from  a  huge  cone  loaf  ;  then  boiling  water  is  poured 


FEZ 


207 


on.  Then  a  bouquet  of  mint  is  thrust  into  this  saturated 
solution  of  sugar  and  tea.  Next,  half  a  glassful  is  thrown 
away  to  exorcise  evil  spirits,  and  then  one  glassful  is  boldly 
swallowed  by  the  host  to  reassure  the  guests  by  proving  that 
there  is  no  intent  to  poison  them.  Extravagant  as  this  may 
sound,  it  is  a  necessary  bit  of  etiquette  in  a  land  where  tea- 
parties  are  so  often  fatal  to  a  rich  man's  enemies.  Finally, 
little  painted  glasses  full  of  mint  tea  are  served  to  all,  and 
the  traditional  three  rounds  of  this  abominable  concoction  — 
a  sort  of  warm  and  flat  mint-julep,  with  the  true  soul  of  a 
mint-julep  lacking  —  must  be  drunk  on  pain  of  being  thought 
ill-bred.  If  the  glasses  are  not  completely  emptied  every 
time,  the  residue  is  complacently  turned  back  into  the  teapot, 
to  which  more  mint  and  water  have  meantime  been  added; 
and  the  greater 
noise  we  make  in 
drinking  the  tea, 
the  better  are  our 
manners  thought 
to  be.  The  re- 
sulting sounds  at 
a  really  fashion- 
able tea-party 
suggest  the  re- 
leasing of  the  air- 
brakes on  a  rail- 
way train. 

During  the 
function,  sticky 
sweetmeats  and 
preserved  fruits, 
that  are  as  revolt- 
ing as  they  are 
adhesive,    are 


"kindly  faces  smiling  down" 


208 


FEZ 


passed  repeatedly,  and  every  time  we  are  expected  to  accept 
and  eat.  I  nearly  ruined  my  digestion  in  an  attempt  to  be 
polite.  My  friend,  more  happily  situated,  is  able  to  pour  most 
of  his  tea  out  of  the  window,  and  deftly  to  drop  the  sticky 
abominations  out  upon  the  heads  of  the  passers-by. 

Escaping  linally,  we  make  another  call,  this  time  upon 
the  little  colony  connected  with  the  mission  school  of  the 
French  Israelite  Alliance.  We  find  it  most  refreshing  to 
meet  a  group  of  educated  people,  with  whom  to  talk  of  all 
the  strange  things  we  have  seen.  Among  them  are  the 
teachers,  sent  from  France,  their  wives  and  families,  and  also 
a  number  of  the  most  progressive  Jews  in  Fez.  The  boys 
are  students  of  the  school,  and  a  fat  one  is  presented  as  the 
prize  pupil  of  the  institution,  the  pride  and  admiration  of  his 
teachers  who    put    him  through  his  paces    at    a    blackboard 


:*<i 


OUR    GVESTS 


FEZ 


211 


to  convince  us  of  his  cleverness.  He  certainly  did  gallop 
through  arithmetical  puzzles  with  rapidity  and  ease,  and 
answered  the  questions  that  we  propounded  with  a  facility 
that  put  us  quite  to  shame,  for  we  could  think  of  nothing  dif- 
ficult enough  to  stagger  him  for  a  moment. 

Then,  after  another  infliction  of  mint  tea  and  some  sweet- 
meats that  seemed   like  sugar-coated  sausages,  we  take  our 

leave,    descend    the    narrow  stair- 
way,   and   pass    out    into    the 
dingy  little  street.      An  ava- 
lanche of  shouts  and  laugh- 
ter   overwhelms    us,    and 


ISRAELITE    SOCIETY   IN   FEZ 


looking  up  we  see  the  sky-line  of  the  house  adorned  with 
a  border  of  kindly  faces,  smiling  down  a  cheery  "  an  rcvoir.'''' 
For  it  has  been  arranged  that  we  are  all  to  meet  again  upon 
the  morrow.  These  new-found  friends  have  been  invited  to 
spend  the  day  at  our  villa,  to  attend  a  picnic  in  our  garden, 
to  forget,  there  in  the  leafy  spaciousness  of  our  temporary 
abode,  the  cramped   and  airless   houses  of  the  Mellah. 


212 


FEZ 


There  are  no 
private  gardens  in 
the  Mellah,  lack 
of  space  forbids  ; 
nor  are  there  pub- 
lic gardens  in  the 
Moorish  city. 
Therefore  the 
Jews  must  take 
their  air  and  sun- 
shine  on  the 
housetops,  where 
level  terraces, 
surrounded  by 
low  parapets,  af- 
ford them  oppor- 
tunities to  bake 
themselves  in  the 
torrid  atmosphere 
of  Africa.  Need- 
less to  say,  our  invitation  was  accepted,  and  next  morning, 
shortly  after  breakfast,  a  caravan  of  white-robed  guests  makes 
its  appearance  at  our  garden  door.  The  women  have  ridden 
on  mule-back  across  the  city,  for  they  are  all  proteges  of 
France,  and  therefore  are  not  compelled  to  go  about  on 
foot,    like    nearly    all    their    co-religionists. 

Great  preparations  have  been  made  by  Haj  for  their 
entertainment.  He  has  adorned  the  house  and  court-yard 
with  objects  borrowed  from  unsuspecting  owners.  Let  me 
explain  that  almost  every  evening  when  we  return  from 
rambles  in  the  city,  we  find  awaiting  us  two  or  three  dealers 
in  curios,  rugs,  old  brocades,  and  Moorish  weapons  ;  their 
goods  spread  out  in  a  most  artistic,  tempting  fashion,  Haj 
has  induced  the   men  who   came   the   night  before  to   leave 


'  EVERYWHERE  THE 
SOUND  OF   RUNNING  WATER  ' 


FEZ 


213 


their  goods  on  approval  until  the  following  evening  ;  and  thus 
it  is  that  we  are  able  to  give  our  picnic  a  rich  Oriental  set- 
ting without  incurring  any  great  expense.  In  the  picture  of 
the  merrymakers  it  may  be  interesting  to  identify  my  friend, 
who  sits  on  the  extreme  left,  robed  in  a  white  burnoose. 
Then  on  the  right  is  Haj,  dressed  in  his  best  ;  near  him  there 
sits  an  old  gray-bearded  man.  He  is  our  only  Moorish  guest, 
one  of  the  few  Moors  who  is  free  from  the  prejudices  of  his 
race,  who  does  not  fear  to  sit  at  meat  with  Jews  and  Chris- 
tians ;  moreover,  he  speaks  Spanish  fluently.  But  he  is 
more  of  a  good  fellow  than  a  good  Mohammedan  ;  to  our 
knowledge  he  dares  to  disregard  the  rule  of  total  abstinence 
imposed  upon  the  nation,  for  in  his  home  there  is  a  secret 
cellar  filled  with  wine.  And,  curiously,  this  old  bon  vivant, 
who  to-day  makes  merry  with  us  in  our  Moorish  garden, 
bears  the  same  name  as  he  who  sang  the  joys  of  the  jug  in  a 
Persian  garden  long  ago  ;    his  name,  too,   is  Omar. 

Our  guests  remain  with  us  from  morning  until  evening, 
departing  just  before  the  hour  when  the  great  wooden  gates 


"nothing  reminiscent  of  the  cities  of  our  world 


214 


FEZ 


of  every  district  are  closed  securely  for  the  night.  In  Fez, 
the  populace  keeps  early  hours.  After  nine  o'clock  it  is 
impossible  to  enter  or  to  leave  the  city  or  even  to  pass  from 
one  quarter  to  another,  be  it  adjacent  or  remote.  The  gates 
once  closed,  each  district  is  completely  isolated,  and  all  who 
are  shut  in  must  wait  till  morning  to  escape  ;  all  who  are 
shut  out  must  spend  the  night  away  from  home,  unless  they 
be  men  of  influence,  or  carry  written  orders  for  the  opening 
of  the  barriers.  There  is,  of  course,  nothing  to  do  at  night  ; 
there  are  no  theaters,  clubs,  or  evening  parties  ;  the  city  life 
dies  out  at  sunset.  The  people  go  to  their  homes  before  the 
gates  are  closed.      There    is    by  night  no  movement  save  the 

flowing  of  the  waters. 
A  river  sings  its  way 
through  the  heart  of 
Fez,  and  swift  canals 
are  laughing  in  every 
quarter.  There  is 
everywhere  in  Fez 
the  sound  of  running 
water,  as  in  Rome, 
as  at  Nikko  in  Japan, 
as  round  the  hill  of 
the  Alhambra.  The 
sound  is  thus  asso- 
ciated in  my  mind 
with  four  of  the  most 
fascinating  places  in 
the  world.  There  is 
not  in  the  entire  city 
a  building  that  is 
reminiscent  of  the 
cities  of  our  world  ; 
there   is    no    smoke, 


THE    STREET   THAT    SKIRTS 
OUR     GARDEN     WALL 


FEZ 


217 


and  there  are  no  chimneys  ;  there  are  no  vehicles  of  any  kind 
in  Fez,  there  is  but  one  wheeled  vehicle  in  the  whole  Em- 
pire ;  it  is  the  state-coach  given  by  Queen  \'ictoria  to  the 
Sultan,  a  curiosity  that  is  exhibited  on  state  occasions,  but  a 
turnout  in  which  the  Sultan  never  rides.      There   is   no  noise 


"  ROOFLESS   DUNGEONS   THAT    SERVE    AS   STREETS" 

in  Fez  —  no  noise  as  we  understand  the  word  ;  there  are 
sounds,  pleasant  and  unpleasant,  but  the  ceaseless  roar  of 
western  cities  is  not  there.  The  struggle  for  existence  is 
almost  a  silent  struggle.  Moreover,  I  believe  that  Fez  is 
in  a  higher  state  of  civilization,  and  that  its  people  are  less 
given  to  crime  than  are  the  dwellers  in  the  poorer  quarters  of 
London,    Paris,    and  New  York.      It  is    safe    for  a    Moorish 


2i: 


FEZ 


citizen  to  walk  these  crowded  streets  by  day  ;  at  night  he 
sleeps  securely  in  his  home.  There  is  no  flagrant  immorality, 
yet  there  is  no  regular  police. 

The  streets  of  Fez  can  never  cease  to  astonish  men  from 
the  modern  world.  We  may  have  seen  similar  settings  on 
the  stage,  similar  costumes  in  pictures  or  museums  ;  so  these 
are  not  new  to  us.  What  astonishes  us  is  that  these  things 
should  anywhere  form  a  part  of  the  actual  daily  life  of  men 
and  women  of  our  own  time.  And  this  life  does  not  even 
touch  our  life  ;  its  points  of  contact  with  the  outside  world 
are  few.  Commercial  Fez  communicates  with  the  mysterious 
regions  of  the  south,  with  Senegambia  and  Timbuctu,  by 
means  of  camel  fleets  that  traverse  seas  of  sand.     This  com- 


"  THERE    IS   NO    NOISE    IN   FEZ 


FEZ 


219 


THE  SACRED  HOUR  OF   MOGHREB 

merce   has  naught   in  common   with  the  commerce    of    our 
world  ;  its  methods  and  its  means  of  transport  are   totally 


220 


FEZ 


foreign    to    our    own,    and    its    itineraries    are    far    beyond 
our   ken. 

But  this  city  that  appears  so  dim  and  so  mysterious  as  we 
walk  through  the  roofless  dungeons  that  serve  as  streets, 
reveals  to  us  a  brilliant,  dazzling  aspect,  when,  disregarding 
the   unwritten   law  forbidding  men  to  go  upon  housetops,  we 


OLR    LAST    EVENING    IN    FEZ 


venture  out  upon  the  terrace  of  our  villa.  The  roof  terraces 
are  sacred  to  the  women  ;  there  they  may  bare  their  faces  in 
the  light  of  day,  there  they  may  lay  aside  their  shrouds,  and, 
bathed  in  the  soft  evening  light,  appear  for  a  brief  space  as 
living  women, —  women  with  charms  and  personalities.  The 
men  of  Fez  have  tacitly  agreed  that  on  the  housetops  the 
women  shall  be  free  from  male  observation,  free  to  forget 
that  they  are  practically  slaves.       We  could  not  bind   our- 


WHERE    UNBELIEVERS  SELDOM    TREAD 


FEZ 


223 


selves  to  keep  this  courteous  law,  the  view  from  our  roof 
terrace  was  too  tempting.  All  Fez  was  there  spread  out  before 
us,  Fez  with  its  snowy  dwellings  reflecting  the  golden  rays  of 
the  declining  sun,  Fez  with  its  minarets,  its  mosqiies,  its 
palaces  ;  Fez  with  its  streets  seldom  trodden  by  the  feet  of  un- 
believers, its  sacred  places  never  polluted  by  an  alien  glance. 


_   .^ 

-^. 

-. 

.^^^ 

-^^I^'i 

'^^^^^^^^^^^'^'-^^ta^^ 

'*^'''^^-— ' 

'-'■■ 

* 

"THE    FIERCE   SURROUNDING   COUNTRY" 


Old  Fez  so  long  the  city  of  our  dreams,  now  become 
the  city  of  our  waking  thoughts,  is  soon  to  become  the 
city  of  our  reminiscences.  For  alas !  this  is  to  be  our 
last  evening  in  the  holy  city.  The  limit  of  official  tolerance 
is  reached  ;  our  passports  have  been  suggestively  returned, 
and,  knowing  the  futility  of  protest,  we  dine  in  regretful 
silence  close  to  the  open  window  that  we  may  not  lose  a 
single  phase  of  the  ever-changing  coloring  and  lighting  of  the 
picture  there  revealed  to  us.  For  the  last  time  we  watch  the 
city  grow  dim  in  the  twilight  ;  although  we  have  witnessed 


224 


FEZ 


ten  times  the  dying  of  the  day  from  this  same  window, 
the  spectacle  has  not  lost  its  charm,  the  picture  has  not  lost 
its  fascinating  mystery.  A  sojourn  of  ten  days  in  Fez  has 
not  dissipated,  it  has  but  deepened  the  sense  of  mystery. 
The  Moors  speak  of  their  country  as  "  Moghreb-al-Aksa,  " 
the  "Country  of  the  Setting  Sun."  How  prophetic  !  —  for 
in  very  truth  the  sun  of  civilization  has  set  forever  upon  this 
land,  and  though  its  past  be  brilliant  as  the  heavenly  sunset 
fires,  its  future  is  as  dim  as  the  soft-footed  night  that,  steal- 
ing in  from  the  black,  fierce  surrounding  country,  broods  like 
a  pall  of  death  above  the  sleeping  city  of  the  Moors. 


-v. v..  v..     ....     -^.v^vfrastSf' EMPIRE 

to  view  the  bodies  of 


"THE  LAST  OF  THE  REBELS" 

(From  a  painting  by  the  great  French  artist,  Benjamin  Constant.) 

The  canvas  reveals  to  us  a  scene  true 
to  Moorish  life  and  to  Moroccan  history. 
The  ''Commander  of  the  Faithful,"  Sultan 
and  Emperor  of  Morocco,  has  sallied  forth 

Morocco  City 
slain  rebels  brought  in  as  proofs  of  prowess 
by  one  of  his  many  punitive  expeditions. 
Over  the  Sultan's  head  is  borne  the  Im- 
perial Parasol,  emblem  of  his  omnipotence. 
Above  the  walls  of  Marrakesh  looms  the 
Kutubiya,  one  of  the  trio  of  towers  built 
by  the  great  Sultan  Mansur;  the  other  two 
are  the  Hasan  Tower  of  Rabat  and  the 
Giralda  Tower  of  Seville. 


'^J5ffC^*.^  :^HT  - 


lo-fci 


9fJ^^-^^|f 


.^S!v331f> 


biciiij 


THROUGH  THE  HEART  OF  THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


v*X^ 


-x;^  ^  ^ 


HROUGH    THE     HEART 

OF  THE 

MOORISH   EMPIRE 


THE  spell  of  mystery  is  still  upon  Morocco.  The  Moors 
are  still  the  people  of  romance.  Of  the  land  we  know 
comparatively  little  ;  of  the  race  as  it  exists  to-day  we  know 
still  less.  Christendom  assumes  that  the  Moorish  Empire 
expired  with  the  last  sigh  of  Boabdil,  leaving  the  Alhambra 
as   its    only  legacy. 

Almost  novel  is  the  thought  that  the  Moors  still  live  as  a 
nation  ;  that  Morocco  is  to-day  what  Spain  would  have 
become  had  the  forces  of  the  Prophet  prevailed  in  the  Penin- 
sula. Who  would  not  welcome  as  a  precious  privilege  the 
possibility  of  turning  back  the  pages  of  history  in  Spain,  to 
revel  in  the  actual  Moorish  life  as  it  was  lived  before  the 
Christian  victories  of  1492  ?  Who  would  not  gladly  leave,  at 
least    for    a    short    space,   the  familiar  round  of   present-day 


228 


THE  MOORISH   EMPIRE 


existence  and  the  hackneyed  paths  of  travel,  to  plunge  into  a 
past  so  picturesque,  to  see  a  civilization  so  refined  and  yet  so 
utterly  unlike  our  ovv^n  ?  No  reader  of  Washington  Irving 
but  has  longed  to  people  with  white-clad  cavaliers  the  courts 
on  the  Alhambra  Hill,  to  hear  the  Arab  accents  in  the  streets 
of  old  Granada,  or  the  murmuring  of  the  Moslem  prayers  in 
the  old  mosques.  But  why  persist  in  holding  Spain  to  be 
the  sole  stage  on  which  the  Moors  appropriately  can  play 
their  parts  ? 

Morocco  was  their  home  ere  Spain  was  conquered  for 
them.  When  Andalusia  ungratefully  cast  out  the  race  that 
brought  it  light  and  knowledge  at  a  time  when  Europe  groped 
in  the  blackness  of  deep  ignorance,  back  to  Morocco  went 
the  Empire  of  the  Moors.  Empires  rise  and  fall.  The 
Moorish  Empire  rose  but  did  not  fall  ;  it  was  shaken  but  not 
shattered  ;  it  is  still  erect.  It  stands  a  living  skeleton  wrapt 
in  the  shroud  of  Islam,  its  hollowness  concealed  by  the  vague 
folds  of  ceremonial  observances  ;  its 
government  a  pompous  sham  ;  its  cities 
empty  imposing  shells  of  former  great- 
ness ;  its  boundless  plains  the  haunts 
of  savage  Berber  tribes  to  whom  the 
Emperor  is  but  a  name,  the  Empire  a 
free  space  in  which 
to  ride  broad-chest- 
ed chargers  and  do 
battle  with  heredi- 
tary enemies. 

In  two  preceding 
lectures  I  have  told 
the  story  of  a  jour- 
ney into  Morocco, 
and  of  a  sojourn  in 
TO  MEQuiNEz    Fcz,   the   metropoHs 


ON  THE  ROAD 


THE  MOORISH   EMPIRE 


231 


of  the  Moors.  There  yet  remains  to  tell  a  third,  conclud- 
ing chapter  of  the  tale — -the  narrative  of  the  return  from 
Fez  to  the  sea,  from  a  remote  yesterday  back  to  the  world  of 
to-day.  "  Out  of  Morocco  "  would  serve  as  an  appropriate 
heading  for  this  chapter, —  a  chapter  rich  in  adventure  and 
in  picturesque   experiences.      For  ten  days  we  have  dwelt  in 


BRIDGES   COMPETE   UNSUCCESSFULLY   WITH    FORDS 

medieval    Moslem  Fez  —  unwelcome  visitors,   objects  of  sus- 
picion to  the  jealous  Moors. 

Two  routes  are  open  to  us  —  the  direct  road  to  Tangier 
and  the  less-frequented  road  to  Rabat  on  the  Atlantic  Coast. 
Despite  the  protest  of  the  authorities,  who  warn  us  of  many 
dangers,  we  chose  the  road  that  leads  westward  to  Mequinez, 
the  Beni-Hasan  Plain,  and  the  Atlantic.  But  the  word 
"road  "  must  be  regarded  only  in  its  Moroccan  sense.     As 


232 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


has  been  said  already,  there  are  no  roads  in  this  wild  land  ; 
the  slow  caravans  and  the  swift  troops  of  Moorish  horsemen 
have  followed  the  hoofmarks  left  by  the  caravans  or  troops 


MIDWAY   BETWEEN  FEZ  AND   MEQUINEZ 


which  have  preceded  them,  until  a  system  of  narrow  trails 
meandering  in  uncertain  parallels  has  been  created  between 
the  inland  cities  and  the  sea. 

These  Moorish  highways  were  never  surveyed  and  never 
tended  ;  like  Topsy  —  who,  also,  by  the  way,  was  an  African 
product  —  they  were  never  born,  "  they  just  growed  ;  "  and 
like  Topsy  they  are  wilfully  unreasonable  ;  they  exasperate 
us  by  their  defiance  of  conventionality  ;  amuse  us  with  their 
peculiar  antics,  and  delight  us  with   preposterous  surprises. 

As  an  example,  take  the  highway  that  leads  from  Fez  to 
the  neighboring  city  of  Mequinez.     As  we  approach  a  river, 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


233 


the  wandering  trails  converge  and  form  a  beaten  track  that 
grows  more  and  more  like  a  real  road  as  it  winds  down 
toward  a  substantial  bridge.  But  just  as  we  are  about  to 
compliment  the  road  on  its  reform,  it  suddenly  grows  weary 
of  good  behavior,  becomes  rebellious,  and,  like  a  balky  mule, 
refuses  to  cross  the  bridge.  Incredible  as  it  may  seem  to 
those  who  do  not  know  this  land  of  contradictions,  Moorish 
roads  will  not  cross  Moorish  rivers  by  means  of  Moorish 
bridges.  The  old  way  is  preferred.  Fording  was  good 
enough  in  the  old  days,  and  it  is  good  enough  to-day.  The 
roads  turn  sharply  from  the  bridge  abutments,  scramble  down 
the  muddy  banks,  and  plunge  into  the  yellow  rivers  to  emerge 
slimy  and  dripping  on  the  opposite  shore.  The  bridges,  pon- 
derously useless,  studiously  neglected,  are  falling  into  decay, 
and  have  become  almost  impassable. 

We  pitch  our  camp  not  far  from  one  of  those  disdained 
reminders  of  an  attempt  at  progress.  We  are  midway 
between  Fez  and  Mequinez  in  a  region  notorious  because  of 
the   thieving   bands   with  which    it   is   infested.       It   appears 


MIDDAY    REPOSE 


234 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


wholly  unpeopled  ;  yet  we  are  not  without  misgivings,  for,  of 
our  caravan,  four  mules  and  two  men  have  gone  astray. 
With  us  are  Haj,  the  dragom.an,  Achmedo,  the  valet,  and 
the  muleteers,  Abuktayer  and  Bokhurmur.  The  missing  are 
Kaid  Lharbi,  the  military  escort,  and  the  new  packer  who 
joined  our  force  in  Fez.  We  have  our  tent  and  Haj's 
kitchen  ;  the  other  tents  and  all  the  supplies  and  furniture 
are  in  the  packs  of  the  missing  mules  somewhere  on  this 
gloomy  plain,  possibly  already  become  the  loot  of  some  law- 
less sheik,  or,  as  we  hope,  merely  delayed  because  of  broken 
harness,  or  gone  astray  because  of  a  mistaken  trail.  Our 
groundless  fears  are  set  at  rest  an  hour  later  by  the  safe 
arrival  of  the  precious  convoy,  and  once  more  our  palates  are 
delighted  by  the  delicious  dinner  cooked  by  Haj,  our  thirst 
quenched  by  cooled  oranges,  and  our  weary  bodies  laid  to 
rest  upon  our  comfortable  camp-cots. 


WIFE,   CHILD,   AND   SLAVE 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


235 


After  the  con- 
finement incident 
to  our  residence 
in  city  quarters, 
the  free  life  of  the  | 
plains  is  doubly 
exhilarating,  and 
we  find  intense 
pleasure  in  the  r 
satisfaction  of 
the  simple,  keen 
desires  to  eat, 
drink,  and  sleep. 
All  food  is  good, 
all  drink  is  bet- 
ter, sleep  the 
sweetest  gift  of 
the  gods. 

The  morning  "  vo  soy  chino,  senor" 

finds  us  early  in  the  saddle  ;  four  hours'  westward  prog- 
ress brings  us  at  noon  to  one  of  those  rare  oases  of 
shadow  in  this  bare  land  of  sunshine.  Here  hunger,  thirst, 
and  weariness  are  again  assuaged  by  food  and  drink  and 
sleep.  Sharp  darts  of  brilliant,  blinding  sunshine  burn 
through  the  leafy  masses  of  the  two  fig-trees,  and  with 
almost  malicious  persistence  pursue  the  would-be  slumberer, 
who,  to  avoid  this,  must  every  now  and  then  crawl  after  the 
receding  shadows. 

But  we  are  not  the  only  travelers  who  have  sought  mid- 
day shelter  in  this  forest.  On  our  approach  we  were  greeted 
by  a  family  group,  —  a  man  and  woman  with  a  little  child, 
and  a  black  slave.  To  our  surprise  the  man  addressed  us  in 
Spanish  :  — 

"  Buenos  dias,  Senor,  hub  la  listed  Esf>anol  f 


236 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


''St,  Senor,  iiu  poco/'  we  reply,  and  then  begins  an 
interesting  conversation. 

"Where  are  your  animals?"  we  ask. 

"Stolen  with  all  my  goods,  last  night,"  he  answers. 
"We  must  now  go  on  foot  to  Fez  to  report  our  loss  to  the 
authorities.  " 

We  learn  that  our  unfortunate  friend  is  a  maker  of  sausage 
cases,  that  he  lives  in  Mequinez,  and  that  he  is  hospitably 
inclined  ;  for  in  return  for  our  sympathy,  he  begs  us  to  make 
use  of  his  house  in  ,^(gl0fl^^ty,^  Mequinez,  where  an- 
other of  his  wives  m^  ^^  ^^'^^^  welcome  us  and 
give  us  food  and     m  4,    lodging:. 


OUR    DUSKY   CHARGE 


This  strange  offer  of  hospitality,  coupled  with  a  some- 
thing in  the  man's  expression  leads  me  to  say,  "  But,  Sefior, 
you  are  not  like  a  Moor." 

"  Why  should  I  be  .^  "  he  smiHngly  asks.  "  To,  yo  soy 
Chiuo.''''      "I,  I  am  a  Chinese." 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


239 


He  is  the  happy  father  of  a  dainty  little  girl,  a  type  of 
Chinese  beauty,  and  two  lusty  boys,  who  bear  upon  their 
faces  maps  of  Peking  and  Canton.  The  negress,  his  slave, 
he  is  sending  back  to  Mequinez  with  tidings  of  his  loss.      Haj, 


MULAI    ISMAIL  S   WALL 


with  Occidental  gallantry,  offers  the  dusky  damsel  his  place 
on  a  pack-mule,  and  after  the  exchange  of  many  kindnesses 
our  little  company,  made  up  of  individuals  so  diverse  in  race, 
in  language,   and  in  thought,    breaks  up. 

Our  Chinese  Moor  with  wife  and  child  go  trudging  off 
toward  Fez,  while  the  American  caravan  with  its  Arab  escort 
and  African  passenger  moves  toward  the  other  great  interior 
city,  Mequinez.  Long  before  we  come  in  sight  of  Mequinez, 
we  find  our  progress  barred  by  a  huge  wall  forty  feet  or  more 
in  height,   stretching  away  in  two  directions  as  far  as  the  eye 


240 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


WANDERING   WALLS 


can  reach.  But  there  are  ogive  archways, 
through  which  our  caravan  passes  as  freely  as  the  sunshine  or 
the  breeze.  There  are  no  gates,  no  guards,  to  hinder  us. 
On  we  file  across  vacant  fields  until  we  reach  a  second 
wall  as  forbidding  as  the  first  and  apparently  as  interminable. 

"What  are  these  walls  .^  "  we  ask.  "  Why  were  they 
built .''  what  purpose  can  they  serve  ?  ' ' 

And  Haj  tells  us  that  they  were  reared  to  protect  the  city 
from  the  turbulent  surrounding  tribes,  to  cut  off,  if  need  be, 
the  approach  of  hostile  bands. 

A  third  wall,  wide  and  high,  beginning  at  the  city  gate 
wanders  away  toward  the  south,  its  utility  not  easily  divined. 
As  we  trace  its  curving  course  over  a  distant  ridge,  we  think 
of  the  Roman  aqueducts  in  the  Campagna,  and  of  the  great 
wall  of  China,  for  this  unknown  Moorish  work  vies  with  those 
famous  masses  of  masonry  in  impressiveness  of  aspect  if  not 
in  hugeness  and  in  length  of  years.  It  was  the  creation  of 
the  crazy  Sultan,  Mulai  Ismail,  a  contemporary  of  Louis 
XIV,  of  France,  a  Moorish  emperor  who  suffered  from  a 
mania  for  masonry,  and  made  his  people  suffer  that  he  might 
satisfy  his  madness  for  works  of   colossal  inutility. 


THE  MOORISH   EMPIRE 


241 


One  of  his  wildest  projects  was  the  building  of  an  ele- 
vated boulevard,  two  hundred  miles  in  length,  along  which 
he  could  ride  from  Mequinez  to  Morocco  City,  safe  from  the 
attack  of  the  rebellious  tribesmen  who  hold  the  intervening 
provinces. 

The  huge  north  gate  of  this  his  favored  city  appears  to  us 
as  we  approach  late  in  the  afternoon  like  the  entrance  to 
some  "  mysterious  nowhere.  "  It  seems  to  be  a  portal  to  the 
empty  sky,  a  door  through  which  the  traveler  might  pass  into 
the  infinity  of  space.  It  is,  in  fact,  the  gate  of  an  almost 
deserted  metropolis,  a  city  that  was  built  for  a  population 
of  one  hundred  thousand  and  contains  to-day  less  than  six 
thousand  souls.  Small  wonder  that  we  find  it  empty  and 
forsaken  in  aspect  as  we  pass  from  court  to  court  and 
through  gate  after  gate.  There  are  in  Mequinez  more 
houses  vacant  than  occupied,  more  roofs  fallen  than  intact, 
more  palaces  in  ruins  than  huts  in  good  repair.  The  Sultan 
is  forced  to   maintain  a  palace  here,  for  Mequinez  ranks  with 


LIKE   THE   PORTAL   TO   A    "MYSTERIOUS   NOWHERE" 
16 


242 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


THE   SULTAN  S    PALACE — MEQUINEZ 


Fez  and  Morocco  City  as  one  of  the  three  capitals  of  the 
Moorish  Empire,  each  city  jealous  of  its  dignity  as  the  abode 
of  the  Imperial  master. 

The  Sultan  always  dwells  amid  the  wreck  of  ages.  The 
snow-white  palace  of  the  actual  sovereign  may  be  seen  rising 
above  the  crumbling  walls  of  the   Imperial   Garden.      Around 


" THROLGH  GATE  AFTER  GATE" 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


243 


"BORN  OF   AN    IMPERIAL    MANIA    FOR    MASONRY' 


it  are  vague  piles  of  age-worn  masonry,  the  abandoned  pal- 
aces of  emperors  who  ruled  here  in  the  past.  Custom 
demands  that  on  the  death  of  a  Sultan  his  palace  be  aban- 
doned and  a  new  one  built  for  his  successor.  It  is  regarded 
as  a  sacrilege  for  any  one  to  occupy  the  abode  of  a  departed 
emperor.      Thus,   during  the    centuries,  these  imperial  inclos- 


244 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


ures  in  all  the  Moorish  cities  have  become  encumbered  with 
acres  of  decaying  palaces  in  which  bats  and  owls  hold 
carnival. 

In  Mequinez  everything  speaks  of  Mulai  Ismail,  the  tyrant 
Sultan  of  the  seventeenth  century,  that  imperial  monster  whose 
deeds  surpass  in   horror  those  of  Nero  or  Caligula,  the  ruins 


AN    ARTIFICAL    LAKE 


of  whose  palaces  and  public  works  rival  in  magnitude  the 
Roman  mountains  of  brick  and  stone  upon  the  Palatine  or 
in  the  broad  Campagna. 

Mulai  Ismail  built  three  miles  of  stables  for  his  twelve 
thousand  horses.  We  see,  to-day,  the  endless  aisles  of  arches 
where  his  chargers  were  lodged  in  splendor,  every  ten  horses 
tended  by  a  negro  slave.  As  a  horseman,  he  was  superb. 
It  is  said  that   he  was   able,   in   one  graceful  movement,    to 


ENDLESS  AISLES    OF  ARCHES 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


247 


mount  his  steed,  draw  his  sword,  and  neatly  decapitate  the 
slave  who  held  his  stirrup.  He  held  that  to  die  by  his  imper- 
ial hand  insured  immediate  entry  into  paradise,  and  through- 
out the  latter  part  of  his  life  of  eighty-one  vigorous  years  he 
went  about  his  land  dispensing,  with  his  scimitar,  passports  to 
a  beatitudinous  eternity.  Twenty  thousand  of  his  subjects 
were  thus  favored,  Friday  being  the  day  chosen  by  the  imper- 
ial murderer  for  these   execution- 

cises.      His 


ary  exer 
pet  lions 


were  fed 


OUR    CAMP    IN   THE   KASBAH 


flesh  of 

forty  cats 

better  than    his 

one  disobedient 


Workmen  caught 


upon  the 

slaves  ;    his 

were    treated 

children,  though 

cat  was  formally  executed  by  his  order 

idling  on  the  walls,  at  which  his  myriad  slaves  and  prisoners 

were  unceasingly  engaged,  were  tumbled  into  the  molds  and 

rammed  down  into  the  concrete. 

An  incredibly  atrocious  deed  crowned  his  career  of  crime. 
A  wife  suspected  of  infidelity  was  filled  with  powder  and 
blown  to  pieces.  The  mere  drowning  of  a  wife  in  the  small 
artificial    lake    was    but    a    gentle    pastime.       He    had    two 


248 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


thousand  wives.  As  to  the  number  of  his  children  we  must 
accept  the  word  of  an  ambassador  of  Louis  XIV,  who  visited 
the  court  of  Mulai  Ismail  in  1703.  He  asked  the  favorite 
son  how  many  brothers  and  sisters  he  possessed.  After  two 
days  spent  in  compiling  a  catalogue,  the  Prince  submitted 
the  names  of  five  hundred  and  twenty-five  brothers  and  three 
hundred  and  forty-two  sisters.  Later  reports  give  the  num- 
ber of  sons  who  lived  to  mount  horse  the  astounding  total  of 
seven  hundred.  To  create  palaces  and  to  people  them  was 
the  life-work  of  Mulai  Ismail. 

One  incident  that  makes  this  impossible  man  seem  real  to 
us  is  this  :  He  actually  sent  ambassadors  to  France  to  demand 
of  Louis  XIV  the  hand  of  Mile,  de  Blois,  the  natural  daugh- 
ter of  the  King  and  Louise  de  la  Valliere  !  The  honor  was 
declined  in  polite  terms  by  the   Grand  Monarque. 


THE  GATE  OF  KASBAH  •  -  MEQUINEZ 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


249 


STUDYING   THK    STRANGERS 


In  Mulai's  day  Europeans  were  not 
strangers  to  Morocco  ;  but  they  came  — 
not  as  we  come  to-day,  as  travelers  with 
tents  and  guides  to  camp  freely  for  a  few 
sunny  days  under  the  imperial  walls  — 
they  came  as  slaves  and  captives  taken 
from  merchant-ships  by  pirates ;  they 
came  with  chains  and  manacles,  to  toil 
for  dark,  hopeless  3^ears  in  building  these 
same  walls,  in  piling  up  these  useless 
miles  of  mud,  brick,  and  cement.  The 
thought  of  the  sufferings  endured 
by  them  makes  doubly  strange  our 
actual  comfort  ;  the  dangers  of  the 
living  past  throw  into  striking  con- 
trast the  security  of  the  dead  pres- 
ent. We  are  not  even  annoyed  by 
crowds.  Perhaps  there  are  no  crowds  in  Mequinez  to-day. 
The  only  citizen  who  deigns  to  take  an  interest  in  us  is  an  old 
man  who  rides  up  on  a  tiny  donkey  and  sits  studying  the 
strangers  with  a  plainly  puzzled  look  upon  his  wrinkled  face. 
That  he  may  not  depart  without  some  mark  of  our  apprecia- 
tion of  his  call,  we  display  our  modern  arsenal,  a  shotgun  and 
a  rifle,  testing  the  latter  by  firing  at  an  eagle  that  is  soaring 
overhead.  By  chance  the  shot  is  a  successful  one.  Down 
comes  the  big  bird  like  a  meteorite,  grazing  the  donkey's  ear, 
and  falling  with  a  thud  at  his  astonished  nose  ;  whereupon 
our  visitor  having  seen  enough  rides  off  in  silence  to  tell  of 
our  prowess   in  the  half-deserted  bazaars. 

From  Mequinez  we  carry  away  impressions  as  enduring  as 
its  walls  and  gates.  We  know  that  we  shall  never  forget  the 
sadness  of  this  empty  city,  its  silence,  and  its  forlorn  magnifi- 
cence. In  all  Morocco  there  is  no  more  artistic  structure 
than  the    Kasbah    Gate    of    Mequinez.      It   is   as   it    was  ;   no 


250 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


restoration  has  marred  it.  Time  has  but  softened  it,  made  it 
more  beautiful.  Corinthian  pillars,  brought  from  the  ruins  of 
the  Roman  city  of  Volubilis,  add  to  its  dignity  and  tell  of  a 
civilization  that  long  antedates  that  of  the  Arab  conquerors. 
It,  too,  like  every  gate  and  every  palace  in  the  city  of  Mulai 
Ismail  recounts  its  tragedy.     The  man  whose  mind  conceived 


GOOD   SHOOTING   IN  THE  HEART   OF  THE  CITY 

its  form,  its  intricate  designs,  its  unsymmetrical  perfections, 
fell  victim  to  his  artist-pride.  For,  when  the  Sultan  com- 
plimented him  on  his  achievements,  he  declared  that  he  could 
build  a  gate  more  beautiful,  more  imposing,  did  the  imperial 
master  so  desire  ;  and  this  boast  cost  the  architect  his  eyes, 
for  the  Sultan  was  resolved  that  this,  his  favorite  gate,  should 
have  no  rival  and  no  peer.  Less  beautiful,  but  more  impos- 
ing is  the  great  North  Gate  by  which  we  enter  and  through 
which  we  ride  out  into  the  black,  treacherous  country.      Our 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


253 


THI-:    EKNI-HASAN    ri-AlX 


muleteers  have  halted  at  a  fountain  to  drink  and  pray  ;  for 
the  fountain  marks  the  burial-place  of  a  great  Moslem  saint, 
the  founder  of  the  fraternity  of  the  Hamdouchi,  a  kindred 
society  to  that   of  the   fanatical   Aissaoua,   a  sect  of  self-tor- 

turers  and  religious  maniacs. 

votions  ended,  the  caravan 
reforms,   and  we  find  our- 
selves trailing  across  an 
empty  land,  which  we 
\  have  been  warned  on 
no  account  to  enter. 
Two    days     of    un- 
eventful travel  over 
the  hills  of  a  rolling 
region  brings  us  to 
the   brink  of  the  in- 
terior   highland,    from 
"'    which    we    look    down 
-"    upon   the   level  plain  that 
stretches  westward  to  the  wide 


THE    NORTH    GATE 
OF   MEQUINEZ 


254 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


A    S0l:O    IN    THK    WILDKRNESS 


Atlantic,  many  miles  away.  Below  us  lies  the  country  of  the 
famous  Beni-Hasan  tribe.  The  "Sons  of  Hasan"  are  fa- 
mous as  horsemen,  warriors,  and  pirates  of  the  plain.  Our 
route  lies  w^estward  across  their  territory  to  the  seaport  city 
called  Rabat,  where  we  hope  to  embark  in  due  time  on  one 
of  the  infrequent  coasting-steamers  that  ply  up  and  down 
the  western  coast  of  Africa. 

As  we  descend  the  steep  trail  winding  down  from  the 
hill  region,  we  look  in  vain  for  any  sign  of  town  or  village. 
A  few  clumps  of  dark  green  trees  and  yellow  streams  are  all 
that  break  the  dull  monotony  of  the  wide  vista, —  all,  save  a 
patch  of  gray,  which  looks  at  first  like  a  heap  of  rags  spread 
out  for  an  airing  and  a  sunning.  But  as  we  draw  nearer  to 
it,  w^e  observe  that  the  rag-pile  is  alive,  that  it  swarms  and 
moves  in  slow  confusion.  Each  rag  enwraps  a  human-being  ; 
there     are     at     least     a     thousand    of     them    come    together 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


255 


in  this  desert-place  to  buy  and  barter  food  and  drink 
and    raiment. 

A  curious  feature  of  commerce  in  Morocco  are  these  fairs 
held  periodically  in-^hosen  localities,  far  from  -any  settlement 
or  village.  A  few  days  later  this  spot,  now  the  scene  of  pic- 
turesque activity,  will  be  brooded  over  by  the  silence  and 
desolation  of  the  surrounding  plain.  It  will  remain  unvisited 
until,  at  the  advent  of  another  fair,  the  people  of  the  broad 
region  roundabout  will  come  again  to  this  townless  market- 
place, with  cattle,  fruits  and  vegetables,  woolen  goods  and 
Manchester  cotton,  old  flintlock  muskets  and  inlaid  Moorish 
daggers,  to  meet  their  fellow-merchants,  to  haggle  with  crafty 
customers,  and  to  indulge  that  desire  for  social  intercourse, 
innate  even  in  the  forgotten  people  of  this  empty,  lonely  land. 

We  spend  an  hour  or  two  at  this  Soko  in  the  wilderness, 
watching  the  ant-hill-like  activity  of  the  gray-clad  sons  of 
Hasaji.  The  water-sellers  do  a  thriving  business,  for  the  sun 
beats  down  relentlessly  on  this  unsheltered  mart.  From 
tented  restaurants  are  wafted  odors  which  may  be  appetizing 
to  the  native  epicure.      The  butchers  are  at  their  work  out  in 


A   TOWNI.KSS   MARKET 


256 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


..'^^l  the  full  glare  of  the   midday  sun.      There  is 

^^^.^  but   little  delay  between   the   abattoir  and 

the  pot  or  frying-pan.  In  fact,  the  fresh 
meat  might  almost  be  broiled  without 
the  aid  of  any  fire  whatever  when  the 
sun  is  high    and    hot. 

It  is  but  natural  that  we  should  be 
objects  of  curiosity,  but  so  reserved  and 
proud  are  the  Moslems  that  even  in  this 
remote  place  they  refrain  from  paying  us 
the  compliment  of  popular  attention. 
We  are  neither  courted  nor  insulted. 
Indifferent  glances  are  all  that  they  vouchsafe 
us.  Whatever  of  hostility  they  feel  toward 
the  ' '  dog  of  a  Christian  ' '  is  vented  upon  our 
servants.  A  man  attempted  to  steal  a  knife 
from  Haj.  Haj  strikes  at  him,  the  crowd 
sides  with  the  would-be  thief,  and  begins  to 
;^  rain  blows  upon  our  guide  and  muleteers,  but 
'  they  defend  themselves  until  lazy  Kaid  Lharbi 
JuJ"*^  can  be  induced  to  make  haste  slowly  to  the 
rescue.  The  appearance  of  our  soldier  quells  the  tumult. 
The  dispute  is  referred  to  a  young  sheik  of  the  tribe,  who,  as 
one  in  authority,  listens  to  our  story  and  to  the  clamor  of 
the  crowd,  and  like  a  righteous  judge,  orders  Haj's  assailant 
put  in  chains.  Before  leaving,  in  order  to  propitiate  the 
crowd,  we  beg  the  sheik  to  release  the  culprit.  This  done, 
we  depart  amid  approving  murmurs. 

Just  before  sunset  we  reach  a  narrow,  turbid  river.  There 
is  no  bridge.  Our  pack-mules  glissade  down  the  slippery 
bank  and  trudge  unhesitatingly  across  the  shallow  ford.  For- 
tunately, we  have  crossed  the  many  rivers  without  inconven- 
ience ;  but  had  we  entered  Morocco  a  month  earlier,  while 
the   rivers   are    swollen  by   the    April   rain,    we   should   have 


"AS    ONE   IX   AUTHORITY 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


259 


suffered  tedious  and  dangerous  delays  at  every  ford.  The  yel- 
low flood  respects  not  even  the  caravans  of  ambassadors  and 
ministers.  Official  pack-mules  have  been  swept  away,  offi- 
cial bedding  soaked  in  Moorish  rivers,  and  many  a  diplomat 
traveling  in  state  to  Fez  on  some  important  mission  has 
been  compelled  to  doff  his  uniform  and  dignity,  and  to  breast 
the  turgid  waters  of  the  River  Sebu  or  the  Wad  Makhazan. 
Half  regretting  that  we  are  deprived  of  similar  experiences, 
we  ride  on  till  we  reach  a  place  called  Bogari,  where  we 
apply  for  the  protection  of  the  kaid  of  the  village.  The 
traveler  should  lose  no  time  in  taking  advantage  of  the  laws 
of  hospitality.  In  them  he  finds  his  surest  safeguard.  The 
person  and  property  of  a  guest  are  sacred.  A  robber  Kaid 
becomes  an  ideal  host,  answering  for  your  safety  with  his  life, 


APPETIZING   ODORS 


zSo 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


FRESH    MEAT 


guarding  your  property  better  than  he  guards  his  own.  But 
the  very  man  who  shelters  you  one  night  may,  on  the  mor- 
row, after  you  have  passed  beyond  the  territory  for  the  peace 
of  which  he  is  held  responsible,  swoop  down  upon  your  cara- 
van with  a  cloud  of  gaily  arrayed  followers  and  seize  such  of 
your  possessions  as  may  have  attracted  his  fancy  while  you 
were  enjoying  his  protection.  By  so  doing  he  also  gets  the 
neighboring  chieftain  into  hot  water,  for  failing  to  protect 
you.  Our  official  letters  from  the  Moorish  authorities  at 
Tangier  command  all  Raids  and  Bashas  to  give  us  hospitality 
and  protection  and,  when  necessary,  to  provide  an  escort  for 
our  safe-conduct  across  their  respective  territories. 

Raid  Absalam  of  Bogari  is  pleased  to  order  our  camp 
pitched  in  his  front-yard.  We  should  have  preferred  an  iso- 
lated site  beyond  the  village  amid  the  freshness  and  the  flow- 
ers of  the  plain,  but  we  feel  more  secure  under  the  eaves  of 
the  official  residence,  a  mud-brick  hut,  with  disheveled  thatch. 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


261 


Kaid  Absalam  grants  us  the  use  of  his  front-yard,  includ- 
ing the  dirt,  dust,  and  flies,  imposing  only  one  condition  upon 
us.  He  has  been  informed  by  men  familiar  with  the  ways  of 
Christians  that  they  invariably  travel  with  ' '  picture-making 
boxes,"  or  "painting  machines,"  with  which  they  do  sin- 
fully and  wilfully  break  the  Mosaic  commandment,  ' '  Thou 
shalt  not  make  unto  thyself  the  likeness  of  any  living  thing. 
The  Raid's  will  is  that  if  we  possess  such  inventions  of  the 
devil,  we  shall  religiously  refrain  from  using  them  in  his 
domain. 

In  this  emergency  we  turn  to  Haj  Abd-er-Rahman  Salama, 
for  we  know  him  to  be  the  most  artistic  prevaricator  in 
Morocco.  He  rises  to  the  occasion.  Never  was  a  village 
more  thoroughly  photographed  than  Bogari,  never  were  a  Kaid 
and  a  community  more  blissfully  unconscious  that  crime  was 
rampant  under  their  very  noses.  Haj  presents  us  formally  as 
two  great  American  astronomers  traveling  in  Morocco  on  a 
scientific  mission.  The  Moors  of  old  prided  themselves  upon 
their  knowledge  of  the  heavens.  Astronomy  is  still  in  high 
esteem.  The  Kaid  begs  us  to  display  our  astronomical  instru- 
ments. We  promptly  unpack  and  set  up  two  photographic- 
cameras,   and  arm  ourselves  with   kodaks.      One  by  one,  or 


NEARING    THE    LAND   OF 
THE   BENI-HASAN 


262 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


rather  three  by  three,  the  dignified  villagers  put  their  heads 
beneath  the  focusing  cloth,  from  the  black  folds  of  which 
come  smothered  exclamations  of  delight  as  they  behold  upon 
the  glass  inverted  images  of  familiar  forms  and  faces. 

Meantime  we  are   "taking  the  altitude  of  the  sun  "  with 
kodaks.     The  result    of  our  first  attempt  shows  an  African 


IN   THE    SHE;IK'S   "  FRONT    YARD  " 


"son  "  black  as  an  eclipse  ;  there  are  wooly  prominences 
on  the  disk,  and  several  satellites  are  visible.  A  second 
experiment  reveals  a  young  Phoebus  Apollo,  dark  as  Pluto, 
and  almost  as  naked  as  Eros.  Later  observations  show  the 
constellation  of  Venus  shedding  the  light  of  smiles  upon  this 
land  of  darkness. 

Meantime  my  friend  wins  popularity  with    the   ladies    of 
the  galaxy  by  performing  a  series  of  simple  tricks  of  sleight- 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


263 


"  A   PLACE     CALLED     BOGARI  " 


of-hand.      He  catches  money  in  the  air,  pr  pretends  to  find  it 
in  their  veils  or  sleeves. 


■i<B^~~ 


264 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


Encouraged  by  his  success,  I  bring  into  play  the  skill 
acquired  in  my  schoolboy  days,  when  Hermann,  not  Stod- 
dard, was  the  man  whose  career  appeared  most  tempting  to 
me.  I,  too,  win  smiles  of  surprise  and  wonder-struck  expres- 
sions from  the  simple  folk  of  Bogari  by  swallowing  coins  and 
corks,  performing  card-tricks,  or  picking  pennies  from  the 
folds  of  ragged  garments.  The  last  trick  is  the  most  popu- 
lar, for  the  pennies  are  invariably  claimed  by  those  from 
whom  they  have  been  plucked  into  visibility.  Fond  mothers 
bring  forward  several  lots  of  Berber  babies,  and  present 
them,  one  by  one,  to  the  magician,  that  he  may  deftly 
extract    the    latent    wealth    from    their    scant    clothing. 

But  not  only 
did  we  succeed  in 
fooling  the  fledg- 
lings and  the  fe- 
male birds,  our 
magic  powers 
won  us  the  re- 
spect and  rever- 
ence even  of  the 
grim,  hawk-like 
cavaliers.  We 
gave  a  matinee 
for  the  Raid  and 
his  chief  men. 
They  were  deeply 
impressed  and 
murmured  com- 
pliments with 
bated  breath  ;  for 
that  which  he 
cannot    under- 

THE   KA,D    AND    THE   CAMERA  ^taud        the       MOOr 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


265 


INSPECTING    "astronomical"    INSTRUMENTS 

regards  as  supernatural.      The  man 
with  occult  powers  is  to  be  feared, 
respected,  and  propitiated.    We 
had  not  counted    upon    this  ; 
but    Haj,   the   clever    rascal 
who  was  under  contract  to 
furnish    all    provisions    for 
our  larder,   encouraged    us 
thereafter  to  give  daily  per- 
formances,  for    every  per- 
formance elicited   substan- 
tial   tokens    of    respect    in 
the  form  of  chickens,  bas- 
kets   of    eggs,    haunches  of 
fine    mutton,   pails  of  goats' 
milk,  and  plates  of  honey. 
Our    reputation    as     conjurors 
once    established,    Haj    paid    out 

ALMOST    A    "coon" 


266 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


no    more    money    to    the    villagers,    exacting    everywhere    a 
willing    tribute    or    "  mouna  "    from    the    Sheiks    or    Raids. 

But  one  more  achievement  crowned  our  perfidy  to  the 
kind  people  of  Bogari.  The  Raid  bade  us  take  tea  in  his 
mud-house  the  night  before  our  departure.  We  donned  our 
Moorish  jelabas,  and  at  the  appointed  hour  sat  with  the 
Hasan  tribemen  around  the  steaming  samovar  —  for  the  Rus- 
sian samovar  is  the  ''  grcmd  litxc  "  of  even  the  pettiest  of 
chieftains.  The  situation  was  rich  in  its  appeal  to  our  love 
of  things  remote  and  strange.  Here  were  we,  robed  in  white 
garments  made  by  the  tailors  of  Fez,  crouching  on  mats, 
sipping  sweetened  mint-tea  in  company  with  men  of  Berber 
blood,  whose  profession  is  plunder, 
whose  relaxation  is  battle.  The 
Raid's  brother  lies  prostrate,  under- 
going a  rough  massage  treatment 
to  allay  the  pain  caused  by  bullet- 
wounds  received  in  a  recent  foray. 
Grim  visaged  retainers  peer  in  at 
the  door,  keen  eyes  flash  in  the 
outer  darkness.  The  candle  flick- 
ers, the  samovar  sings  softly,  now 
and  then  a  word  is  spoken,  and  a 
few  seconds  later  a  guttural  reply 
is  heard,  or  a  grunt  of  pain  from 
the  wounded  warrior  breaks  the 
hush    of   the  assembly. 

Resolved  that  this  scene  must 
be  pictured,  I  appeal  to  Haj  to  put 
his  powers  of  prevarication  once 
more  to  the  test — to  lie  us  into  a 
favorable  opportunity  for  discharg- 
ing  one    of    our    flash-lights    here 

and     now.  .,  real  African 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


269 


He  hesitates.  Dare  he  attempt  another  fabrication? 
Success  has  made  him  bold.  He  speaks,  "Oh,  Raid,  my 
masters  the  astronomers,  to  whose  skill  your  village  can  bear 
witness,  ask  of  you  one  more  favor.  To-morrow  they  set 
out  across  our  unknown  country.  To  lay  their  course  across 
chis  wide  land  without  roads  they  must  take  observation  of 
the  sun   by  night  as  well   as  by  dav.      At  their  command  the 


roi"    I  AR    WITH    THE   LADIES 


sun  will  pierce  the  veil  of  night.  Permit  them  once  more  to 
set  up  their  instruments,  and  they  will  cause  the  brightness  of 
the  orb  of  day  to  flash  for  a  brief  instant  even  here  between 
the  four  walls,   beneath  thy  roof." 

Allured  by  the  promise  of  this  miracle,  the  Raid  con- 
sents. The  cameras  are  placed.  The  flash-powder  is  spread. 
Then  with  impressive  gestures  I  invoke  the  god  of  day,  and 
Haj  ignites  the   fuse. 

A  great  light  fills  the  chamber,  clouds  form  and  roll  out 
into  the  night,  the  sons  of  Hasan  gasp  and  murmur  prayers. 


2/0 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


LOTS  OF    BERBER    BABIES 


The  astronomers  calmly  sit  down  and  figure  out  their  reckon- 
ing, and  lay  the  course  for  the  caravan  voyage  for  the  morrow. 
No  suspicion  rested  on  us.     Raid  Absalam  next  day  escorted 
us  to  the  confines  of  his  territory,  and  thanked  us  for  having 
^«^^         kept  our  pledge  not  to  paint  pictures 

of    his  people. 


FOOLING   THE    FLEDGLINGS 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


271 


TIDINGS   OF   TROTBLE 


Our  caravan  files  west- 
ward across  the  plain, 
which  is  as  peaceful  as  a 
summer  sea.  We  trav- 
erse patches  of  color,  big- 
ger than  townships,  where 
the  earth  is  steeped  in  the 
crimson  of  anemones,  or 
the  yellow  of  buttercups. 
At  midday,  while  the  sun 
hangs  almost  in  the;ienith, 
and  the  mules  trample  on 
their  own  shadows  at 
every  step,  an  incident 
breaks  the 
monotony 
of  our  ever 


silent    progress, 
on    the    horizon, 
the    only    thing 


A  solitar}'  man 
his  hooded  head 
that    rises    above 


the  level  of  the  weeds  and  flowers. 
At  last  he  comes  within  hailing  dis- 
tance,  and  we  exchange  greetings. 
He  is  a  courier,   bearing  dispatches 
to  Mequinez.      He  speaks  excitedly 
to    Haj,   who    listens  to  his   words 
with  visible  anxiety,  for  he  conveys 
tidings  of  trouble  from  the  west. 
It  is  the  old  stor}-  of    inter-tribal 
hostilities,  of  Beni-Zimour  razzias 
in  the  Beni-Hasan  plain,  of  Beni- 
Hasan    retaliatory    trips    into    the 
hill-countr}'  of   the    Beni-Zimour. 
The  village  of  Twazit,   where  we 


THE    IMPERIAL    POST 


2/2 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


intend  to  spend  the  night,  was  at- 
tacked early  this  very  morning,  the 
Beni-Zimour  troop  was  driven  off, 
the  Beni-Hasan  horsemen  have  been 
d  out  to  defend  their  frontier. 
We  press  on  rapidly  until  we 
meet  a  company  of  cavaliers 
led  by  the  young  Kaid  of 
Twazit,  who  is  scouring  the 
country  to  assemble  all  the 
available  fighting  men. 
He  halts  our  caravan  and 
demands  to  know  our  des- 
tination and  the  purpose 
of  our  journey.  He  for- 
bids our  advance  into  the 
disturbed  region,  being  re- 
sponsible to  the  central 
government  for  our  safety. 
But  seeing  picturesque  pos- 
sibilities in  the  adventure, 
we  insist  upon  our  right  to  official  protection,  and  Haj 
demands  an  escort  for  us.  The  Kaid  cannot  refuse.  Eight 
men  are  detached  from  his  troop  and  detailed  for  escort- 
duty.  With  eagerness  we  ride  on  toward  the  seat  of  war, 
if  war  be  not  too  dignified  a  name  for  one  of  these  periodic 
inter-tribal  squabbles. 

Peace  is  upon  the  plain,  calm  is  in  the  air  ;  yet  danger 
and  suspicion  ride  with  us,  and  point  across  the  flowery 
expanse  toward  the  dark  line  far  to  the  south, —  a  line  that 
indicates  the  wooded  country  of  the  Zimour  tribe,  which 
holds  the  region  between  Mequinez  and  the  southern  capital 
city,  Marrakesh  (or,  as  it  appears  on  many  maps,  Morocco 
City;. 


KAID   ABSALAM 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


273 


WESTWARD    UNDIiR    liSCORT 


So  successfully  have  the  Beni-Zimour  held  the  Sultan's 
troops  at  bay  that  it  has  never  been  possible  for  the  Imperial 
master,  even  with  the  usual  escort  of  thirty  thousand  men,  to 
march  by  the  direct  route  from  city  to  city.  He  has  always 
been  forced  to  go  around  the  very  heart  of  his  own  empire, 
to  cross  this  plain  to  Rabat,  thence  travel  down  the  coast, 
and  finally  strike  inland  along  the  southern  boundary  of  the 


AN    ANXIOrS    MOMENT 


274 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


PEERING  ACROSS  THE  PLAIN 


possessions    of    his    rebellious  sub- 
jects.     Thus  every  state-progress 
from  one  of  his  capitals  to  the 
other   becomes   a   public   hu- 
miliation of  Morocco's  ruler, 
whose  boast  is  that  his  throne 
is    his     horse's    saddle,    his 
canopy   the  sky,    his  palace 
the  great   tent  in   which  he 
spends    more    than    half    of 
every  year. 

The  Beni-Hasan,  while 
none  too  loyal  to  the  Sultan 
in  the  season  when  he  sends 
to  them  his  Bashas  to  col- 
lect the  taxes,  are  hereditary 


PICTURESQUE    PROTECTORS 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


275 


TOWARD    THE    SETTING    SUN 


enemies   of    their  rebellious  neighbors,    and  therefore    nomi- 
nally supporters  of    the    Imperial    cause. 

Our  picturesque  protectors  pause  every  now  and  then, 
peering  anxiously  toward  the  south,  suspicious  of  every  dot 
on  the  horizon,  of  every  patch  that  seems  to  move  in  the 
distance  upon  that  sea  of  heat-waves  that  rolls  above  the 
plain.  Most  of  our  guards  are  young  men  under  twenty-five, 
one  only  is  older.  Even  sterner  than  the  rest  in  aspect,  he 
has  a  cruel  face,  thick  lips,  and  _^.  ?«««* 
wears  a  gray  skull-cap  drawn 
tightly  above  his  furrowed 
forehead.  We  might  well 
have  some  misgivings  for 
our  safety  were  not  our 
guards  also  our  hosts,  and 
answerable  for  us  to  their 
chief,  who  is  answerable 
to  the  Sultan.  Should 
we  suffer  harm,  the  cen- 
tral government  must  make 
amends  to  the  United  States. 

"even  sterner  than  the  rest" 


2/6 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


TllK   CAKAVA.N    ARRIVES   AT    SUNSET 


As  if  in  preparation  for  the  expected  fray,  the  horsemen 
are  continually  rehearsing  sham  battles,  half  the  troop  dash- 
ing furiously  ahead,  then  returning  at  full  gallop  to  attack  the 
caravan,    which  is  stoutly  defended   by  the  other  half.      At 


TENl    OK    IHE    WUU.NUED    TRIBESMAN 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


277 


first  no  shots  are  fired,  but  when 
we  agree  to  pay  for  all  the 
ammunition  used  by  both 
friends  and  mimic  ene- 
mies, blank  charges  are 
rammed  into  the  elabo- 
rate old  flintlocks,  and 
the  roar  and  smoke  of 
harmless  battle  mark  our 
advance  into  a  hostile 
territory. 
At  sunset  we  arrive  at  Twa- 
zit.  We  expected  to  find  a  vil- 
lage. We  find  instead  a  circle  of 
thirty-six  Bedouin  tents  pitched  in 
the  open  plain.  The  men  of  our  escort  are  here  at  home, 
and  are  greeted  by  their  wives  who  ask  for  news  of  the  chief 
and  the  rest  of  the  troop.  The  women  wring  their  hands 
and  weep  on  learning  that  we  are  to  camp  with  them.  The 
reason  is  that  should  we  be  robbed  while  under  the  pro- 
tection of  their  chief,  the  Sultan's  government  would 
hold  their  husbands  responsible  for  all  damages,  and  bleed 
even  the  poorest  of  them  to    /-'m    repay    us   for    our   losses. 


BERBER    BELLES 


SIMPLE   AS   CHILDREN 


278 


THE  MOORISH   E:MPIRE 


An  atmosphere  of  anxiety  pervades  the  village.  One 
man  was  killed  in  the  morning's  battle  ;  he  has  just  been 
hastily  buried.  Another  is  lying  wounded  in  his  tent,  and  we 
are  urged  to  go  to  his  relief ;  for  every  foreigner  is  supposed 
to  be  skilled  in  surgery  and  medicine.  We  are  conducted  to 
a  low  tent  in  which  the  wounded  man  is  lying.  He  is  sur- 
rounded by  a  stupid  crowd,  which  keeps  away  fresh  air.      We 


"  WE   EVEN   DO    A    LITTLE   VETERINARY    SURGERY 

strive  to  clear  the  tent,  but  curiosity  is  strong,  and  a  score  of 
villagers  insist  on  witnessing  the  doctor's  visit.  The  man  lies 
on  a  rug  groaning  in  fever,  his  garments  stained  with  blood. 
His  wound  is  red  with  clotted  blood.  No  one  has  thought  to 
wash  him  and  give  him  water.  My  friend  puts  cooling  band- 
ages upon  his  head,  and  to  the  best  of  his  ability  dresses  the 
wound.  It  is  ugly,  but  not  fatal  ;  for  the  ball  has  glanced 
along  the  ribs  and  passed  out  on  the  side. 

While  I  am  striving  to  keep  the  crowd  away,  two  women, 
smeared  with  slimy  mud  from   head  to  foot,    come  running 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


281 


THE  OLD  KAID  PREPARES  TO  SALLY  FORTH 


from  the  river.  They  break  into  the  tent,  and  throw  them- 
selves upon  the  prostrate  form,  uttering  loud  cries  ;  and  it  is 
with  the  greatest  difficulty  that  we  prevent  those  miserable 
mud-daubed  wives  from  overwhelming  the  sufferer  with  their 
conventional  expressions  of  grief.  They  have  put  on  mud 
and  slime  as  substitutes  for  sackcloth  and  ashes. 


BEYOND  THE  REACH  OF  DANGER 


282 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


It  is  insisted  that  some  medicine  should  be  administered 
internally.  "All  doctors  make  sick  people  swallow  medi- 
cine," they  say  ;  and  to  conform  to  custom,  and  yet  do  no 
harm,  we  give  our  patient  a  cup  of  water  in  which  a  little 
paregoric  has  been  dropped.  Then,  with  a  ' '  Trust  in  Allah  !  ' ' 
the  foreign  doctors   retire   amid  the   blessings  of  the  crowd. 


A    PORTUGUESE   PORTAL 


Could  we  have  cured  but  one  tenth  of  the  maladies,  or  in 
any  small  way  relieved  the  needless  suffering  which  greets  the 
traveler  in  Morocco,  we  should  have  been  happy  ;  but  we 
were  not  prepared  ;  we  lacked  both  knowledge  and  medical 
supplies.  It  grieved  us  to  play  the  impostor,  yet  it  was 
kinder  to  the  people,  who  in  many  things  are  simple  as  chil- 
dren. To  refuse  them  advice  and  treatment  would  have  been 
cruel,  however  worthless  the  advice  and  treatment.  Our 
willingness  to  serve  our  doses  of  paregoric,  our  injunctions  to 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


285 


trust  in  the  one  God,  pleased  and  cheered  them.     That  was 
all  that  we  could  hope  to  accomplish. 

We  even  do  a  little  veterinary  surgery  for  a  wounded 
horse,  a  fine  gray  steed,  lamed  by  a  bullet  in  the  leg.  The 
poor  beast  is  held  prostrate  while  the  bullet  is  cut  out  with 
my  pocket-knife,  and  the  wound  is  cauterized  with  red-hot 
iron.  The  excitement  keeps  us  from  a  realizing  sense  of  our 
situation,  and  it  is  only  when  in  the  gathering  darkness 


iN  [-;Mn  N'   I '  'WN 


we  have  returned  to  our  tent  that  we  begin  clearly  to  recognize 
the  fact  that  these  little  scenes  of  such  a  painful  interest  are 
not  prepared  merely  to  amuse  the  curious  traveler.  There  is 
a  stern  reality  in  it  all  ;  and  the  Beni-Zimour  who,  this  very 
morning,  attacked  the  village  and  laid  low  men  and  horses, 
are  not  many  miles  away. 

The  night  is  clear.  The  few  men  in  camp  are  constantly 
on  the  alert.  We  see  the  chief  mount  and  ride  outside  tha\. 
circle  of  flimsy  tents,  our  only  fortification.  He  goes  to  see 
that  the  patrols  are  not  neglecting  duty,  to  scan  with  anxious 
eyes  the  southern  distance. 


286 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


All  is  still  till  half-past  nine.  Then  comes  the  most 
uncomfortable  quarter  of  an  hour  that  I  have  ever  passed. 
A  shrill,  loud  cry  rings  out  ;  we  think  it  is  the  call  to  prayer. 
Not  so;  it  is  the  call  to  arms.  '"  Haycl!"^  —  "  to  horse, " 
the  sentinels  have  shouted  ;  and  that  cry  of  "  HaycV  is 
answered  by  pandemonium    in    the    village.      The  tribesmen 


"where  the  sebu  meets  the  sea" 


rush  to  loose  their  shackled  steeds,  a  hundred  cowardly  dogs 
begin  to  bark,  and  from  every  tent  women  and  children  rush 
out  terror-stricken   and  weeping. 

Their  cries,  the  tramp  of  hoofs,  the  guttural  shouts  of 
our  wild-eyed  protectors  combine  to  wake  us  to  a  sense  of 
personal  danger.  The  sentinels  have  seen  a  moving  mass 
upon  the  plain,  supposedly  a  band  of  Zimour  horsemen. 
They  are  in  expectation  of  a  prompt  attack.      Our  troop  hur- 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


287 


SEAWARD   FORTIFICATIONS —  MEHEDIA 


riedly  assembled,  sallies  out  to  meet  the  coming  foe.  A 
troubled  silence  reigns. 

We  wait  and  wait.  No  sound  ;  no  clash  of  arms  ;  no 
shots  exchanged.  Five,  ten,  twenty  minutes  pass,  then 
comes  tramp  of  hoofs,  a  dark  mass  sweeps  into  the  vague 
circle  of  Bedouin  tents,  the  dogs  stop  barking,  and  with 
relief  we  recognize  our  faithful  cavaliers  as  they  dismount, 
giving  grunts  of  satisfaction. 

The  approaching  enemy  had  been  frightened  off  by  the 
unexpected  appearance  of  our  little  army.  Their  force  was 
small,  they  had  believed  the  village  unprotected,  and  they  did 
not  know  that  the  bravest  Beni-Hasan  men  had  returned  to 
guard  their  women  and  their  homes.  The  sentinels  are 
doubled,  and  after  an  hour  more  of  watching,  we  fall  asleep, 
weary  with  the  day's  excitement. 

And  as,  next  day,  our  journey  is  peacefully  resumed  with 
a  smaller  escort  than  before,  we  are  inclined  to  laugh  at  the 
terrors  of  the  night,  and  to  chaff  one  another  on  our  respec- 


288 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


tive  preparations  for  defense  or  flight.  My  warlike  friend  had 
spent  that  anxious  hour  cleaning  his  shotgun,  removing  bird- 
shot  from  his  shells,  and  substituting  crude  lumps  of  lead  ob- 
tained from  Kaid  Lharbi's  store  of  ammunition.  I  had  quietly 
packed  my  photographic  films  into  the  smallest  possible  bundle, 
and  gone  to  bed,  ready  at  a  moment's  notice  to  seize  the 
precious    packet    and    escape  —  whither,   I  did  not    know. 


ABANDONED    PALACES 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


291 


By  midday  on  the  morrow  we  are  beyond  the  reach  of 
harm.  Making  a  small  present  to  the  Beni-Hasan  guards, 
we  watched  them  disappear  in  the  direction  of  the  seat  of 
war,  where  they  will  continue  their  life  of  skirmish  and  pil- 
lage until  laid  low  by  bullets  from  their  hated  Zimour  neigh- 
bors. 

And  as,  some  hours  later,  we  approach  the  coast,  our 
caravan  plunges   into  a  veritable  ocean  of  freshness,    where 


THE   STORKS  OF    MEH3DIA 


the  wild  daisies  are  so  tall  that  our  animals  appear  to  be 
lying  down,  while  in  reality  they  are  toiling  on  as  best  they 
may  through  a  sea  of  flowers  four  feet  deep.  Our  pet  mule, 
the  little  white  one,  is  almost  up  to  his  eyes  in  daisies,  while 
the  others  revenge  themselves  for  many  days  of  dry,  short, 
withered  grass  by  feasting  upon  the  rich  fare  so  unexpectedly 
encountered.  For  several  miles  we  slowly  advance  along 
this  curious  road  (for  we  are  still  upon  a  road,  though  one 
little  used)  and  at  last,  reaching  a  hilltop,  we  are  greeted  by 


292 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


a  glorious  salt  breeze,  and  looking  westward  we  behold  the 
dim  blue  stretches  of  the  broad  Atlantic. 

An  hour  more  and  we  arrive  at  Mehedia,  formerly  a  city 
of  the  Portuguese,  to-day  a  vast  ruin  in  the  midst  of  which  a 
miserable  Arab  hamlet  is  concealed.  We  camp  near  the 
decaying  walls,  where  storks  and  men,  gifted  with  equal 
intelligence,  observe  us  with  a  silent  curiosity.  This  Mehedia 
was  once  a  flourishing  port,  and  the  fortifications  left  by  the 
Portuguese  are  very  stately  and  must  have  been  at  one  time 
thoroughly  impregnable.  To-day,  however,  everything  is 
dilapidated  and  forsaken. 

We  descend  to  the  beach  and  enjoy  a  dip  in  the  salty 
waters  where  the  River  Sebu  meets  the  sea.  Above  us  loom 
the  imposing  walls  and  bastions  of  Mehedia,  silent  and 
abandoned,   yet  eloquent  of  the  vanished  glory  of  Portugal. 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


293 


A    PART    OF    THE    IMPERIAL    HAREM 


In  the  thought  of  this  empty  fortress,  so  formidable  in  aspect, 
so  monumentally  defenseless  in  its  desolation,  there  is  some- 
thing almost  awe-inspiring.  Its  few  miserable  human  deni- 
zens seem  like  dejected  ghosts  gliding  through  the  crumbling 
portals,  haunting  the  roofless  palaces.  The  stork  population 
on  the  wall-tops  and  the  battlements  seems  more  real.  The 
Moors  declare,  "Storks  are  men  who 
have    come    from    islands    far  awav    to 


294 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


the  west  upon  the  great  ocean  to  see  Morocco.  Like 
all  the  world  they  know  there  is  no  other  land  to  com- 
pare with  it  ;  they  abandon  their  outward  form  of  men,  and 
come  hither  to  behold  it.  Therefore  we  give  them  hospi- 
tality and  do  not  harm    them."      Nay,   the   Moors  do  more 


BEFORE    ENTERING   SALLI 


than  this  for  the  long-legged  dwellers  on  their  house-tops  — 
they  maintain  in  Fez  a  hospital  for  invalid  storks,  founded,  so 
runs  the  legend,  in  this  wise  :  Several  hundred  years  ago  a 
stork  came  to  the  Kadi  of  Fez  bringing  a  pearl  necklace  that 
it  had  stolen.  As  the  owner  could  not  be  found,  with  the  pro- 
ceeds from  the  sale  of  the  necklace,  the  Kadi  bought  a  house 
that  is  still  in  existence,  called  the  Stork  House,  an  institu- 
tion where  storks  are  received  and  treated  as  human  beings.* 


*  Budgett  Meakin  —  "The  Land  of  the  Moors."  Mr.  Meakin's  three  volumes,  ''The 
Moorish  Empire,"  "  The  Land  of  the  Moors,"  and  "  The  Moors"  are  recommended  to 
readers  who  desire  fuller  information  concerning  Morocco  and  its  people. 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE  297 

The  Moorish  lover  looks  upon  the  stork  with  a  peculiar  rev- 
erence and  affection,  for  from  its  haunts  on  terrace  or  tower 
the  bird  looks  down  upon  the  habitations  of  the  women,  and 
daily  beholds  the  beloved  one.  But  storks  of  Mehedia  take  no 
more  heed  of  us  than  do  the  gray-robed  human  inhabitants. 

On  the  eve  of  our  departure,  the  Kaid  of  the  village 
cannot  resist  exhibiting  his  skill  with  a  recently  acquired 
Winchester    rifle    that,    he    tells    us,    has    been    taken    from 


-=r-^  ^/><:  •,  - --  -Sy^Ti 


ON   THE   BEACH    AT    SALLI 


smugglers  in  the  performance  of  his  official  duties.  Learn- 
ing that  we  are  Americans  and  therefore  compatriots  of  his 
new  gun,  he  deigns  to  look  with  favor  upon  us  and  invites  us 
to  his  dwelling.  There  he  prepares  to  astonish  us  with  his 
marksmanship.  An  egg  is  placed  upon  a  wall  fifty  feet  dis- 
tant. The  Kaid  seats  himself  comfortably  on  a  ledge,  takes 
leisurely  aim,  amid  the  respectful  silence  of  his  followers, 
and  then  bangs  away.  The  plaster  on  the  wall  was  badly 
damaged,  but  after  the  smoke  had  cleared  away,  the  egg, 
intact,  looked  down  upon  the  humbled  Moor,  who  proceeded 
to  examine  and  criticise  the  sights  of    the  Winchester. 


298 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


THK     RIVER    BU    RAGRE( 


My  friend,  when  his  turn  came  to  try  the  gun,  was  not 
considerate  enough  to  spare  the  egg.  His  pride  in  his  marks- 
manship overcame  his  politeness,  as  a  yellow  blotch  on  that 
old  wall  may  still  attest. 

From  Mehedia  it  is  one  day's  ride  southward  to  the  sis- 
ter-cities of  Salli  and  Rabat,  sister-cities  which  have  never 
been  on  the  best  of  terms  with  one  another.  We  follow  a. 
sandy  trail  along  the  coast— the  monotony  of  the  journey 
broken  by  but  a  single  incident,  an  encounter  with  a  gaily 
furnished  caravan.  Six  Moorish  women  robed  in  white,  with 
covered  faces,  attended  by  a  dozen  guards  and  servants, 
come  slowly  along  the  dusty  track.  At  their  approach  Raid 
Lharbi,  evincing  a  sudden  bashfulness,  dashes  off  to  the 
right,  points  his  horse 's  head  toward  the  sea,  and  sits  there 
with  his  back  turned  to  the  veiled  beauties  until  the  gay 
parade  has  passed.  The  other  men  of  our  escort  follow  his 
example,  galloping  off  to  one  side  or  the  other,  planting  their 
steeds  with  tails  toward  the  trail,  not  venturing  to  look  around 
until  the  dust  raised  by  the  passing  caravan  has  settled.  We 
naturally  seize  our  cameras  to  record  this  strange  proceeding, 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


299 


whereupon  they  shout  imperatively,  "Turn  your  backs 
quickly!  These  are  the  Sultan's  wives.  No  man  may  look 
upon  them!"  Accordingly  we,  too,  conform  to  a  custom 
which  seems  to  us  rude  rather  than  courteous  and  turn  our 
backs  upon  the  mysterious  beauties,  a  contingent  of  Imperial 
wives  whom  Mulai  El-Hasan  is  shipping  in  advance  to  await 
his  arrival  at   Mehedia  or  Mequinez. 

A  few  hours  later  we  pass  beneath  the  aqueduct  of  Salli, 
which  serves  also  as  an  outer  city-wall.  Then,  after  water- 
ing our  animals,  we  ride  on  across  vast  vacant  spaces  until 
the  gates  of  Salli  admit  us  to  the  famous  city  of  the  old-time 
"  Salli  Rovers.  " 

So  hostile  is  the  populace  that  every  attempt  at  picture- 
making  brings  a  volley  of  stones  from  howling  urchins  and 
threatening  murmurs  from  savage-looking  citizens.  All  that 
we  remember  of  our  visit  to  Salli  is  a  rapid  dash  through 
narrow  thoroughfares  amid  a  sprinkling  of  missiles  and  male- 
dictions. It  is  with  a  sense  of  relief  that  we  find  ourselves 
on   the   broad  sandy  beach  that  stretches  from  the  southern 


SWITCHING    THE    "  UAllGAGK-CAR 
AT   THE   FERRY 


30O 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


THE   SALLI-RABAT    FERRY 


walls  down  to  the  River  Bu  Ragreg,  on  the  opposite  shore  of 
which  rises  the  city  of  Rabat,  our  destination.  As  we  look 
back  toward  the  white  line  traced  by  Salli's  gleaming  house- 
tops, our  thoughts  go  back  to  the  hero  of  our  childhood, 
Robinson  Crusoe  who,  taken  by  the  Salli  Rovers,  was  there 
held  in  slavery  for  many  months,  finally  escaping  in  a  small 
boat  belonging  to  his  Moorish  master.  Another  famous  char- 
acter, Captain  John  Smith,  came  to  Salli  in  1604  ;  but  why 
he  came  and  what  he  did  there  we  do  not  definitely  know. 
For  years  the  Corsairs  of  this  port  were  the  scourge  of  Chris- 
tian merchant-ships.  Piracy  was  then  a  recognized  profes- 
sion, the  title  "pirate"  an  honorable  one,  in  fact,  the 
highest  naval  title  of  to-day  is  but  a  corruption  of  that 
assumed  by  the  old  pirate  chiefs:  "Lord  of  the  Sea," 
"  Ameer-el-Bahr, ' ' — Admiral  ! 

Salli  and  Rabat,  although  within  gunshot  of  one  another, 
differ  widely    in    character.       Salli    is    rabidly  anti-foreign. 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


301 


Rabat  is  commercial  and  comparatively  cordial  to  Chris- 
tians, sheltering  a  little  colony  of  European  merchants  and 
vice-consuls. 

Between  the  cities  flows  the  Bu  Ragreg,  "  Father  of  Glit- 
tering, ' '  across  which  we  must  be  ferried  in  crude  flat-bot- 
tomed barges.  To  switch  our  baggage-train  on  to  the 
ferry-boat  is  a  task  that  calls  for  much  hard  work  and  not  a 
little  Arabic  profanity. 

We  must  wait  our  turn  ;  for  there  are  other  caravans,  with 
camels,  mules,  and  horses  massed  upon  the  sands.  At  last 
our  animals  are  all  embarked  with  the  exception  of  Bokhur- 
mur's  burro,  who,  accustomed  only  to  fording,  requires  much 
persuasion  before  he  will  trust  himself  to  this  new-fangled 
contrivance.  During  the  brief  period  of  calm  that  inter- 
venes between  the  embarkation  and  subsequent  landing  on 
the  Rabat  beach,  we  look  in  admiration  at  the  scene  about 
us.  Above  the  palisade  on  the  south  bank  rises  a  noble  half- 
completed  tower.      We  have  long  since  heard  reports  of  it. 


HIS    lIKSr    K.MHARKATION 


302 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


RABAT  —  THE    CITV    AND    IHk    CilAUKL 


It  is  the  unfinished  Hasan  Tower,  a  sister  to  the  famed 
Giralda  of  Seville  and  to  the  Kutubiya  of  Morocco  City. 
The  same  Sultan,  Yakub  el  Mansur,  the  great  builder,  reared 
this  trinity  of  towers  about  eight  hundred  years  ago.  To- 
day they  prove  the  vast  extent  of  his  dominion  ;  to  him 
owed  allegiance  all  the  lands  which  lie  between  Andalusia  in 
the  south  of  Spain,  and  Marrakesh,  on  the  borders  of  the 
Great  Sahara.  But  this  tower  at  Rabat  was  never  finished. 
It  stands  to-day  as  the  workmen  left  it  in  the  year  1200. 
Rabat  owes  its  existence  to  the  builder  of  the  tower,  who 
late  in  the  twelfth  century  founded  on  this  promontory  his 
' '  Camp  of  Victory,  "  "  Rabat  el  Fatih. ' '  The  frowning  cita- 
del sits  darkly  on  the  crest  between  the  harbor  and  the  sea, 
the  smiling  city  lies  gleaming  just  below\  We  follow  the 
broad,  animated  beach,  enter  at  the  w^ater-gate,  present  our 
credentials  to  the  governor,  and  after  some  delay  a  camping- 
ground  is  assigned  us  on  the  crest  within  the  shadow  of  the 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


303 


citadel,  under  the  very  walls  of  the  powder  magazine.  It  is 
not  until  our  outfit  is  here  unpacked,  that  we  remark  the  fact 
that  we  are  pitching  our  tents  in  a  graveyard.  All  round- 
about us  are  neglected  graves,  tombstones  inclined  at  most 
distressing  angles,  with  hollows  where  there  should  be 
mounds,  and  weeds  and  rubbish  in  place  of  grass  and 
flowers. 

Poor  Abuktayer,  sick  from  fatigue  and  bad  water  drunk 
on  the  journey,  is  excused  from  work,  and  sits  amid  the 
mossy  mortuary  tablets,  a  picture  of  weariness  and  woe, 
watching  the  other  servants  as  they  wedge  tent-pegs  into  the 
cracks  of  tombstones. 

Grewsome  indeed  our  camping-ground,  but  good  enough 
for  Christian  dogs,  the  amiable  Basha  thinks,  and  the  Chris- 
tian dogs  have  ceased  to  be  fastidious.  All  that  we  ask  is 
that  the  sleeping  Moors,   buried  only  two  feet  underground, 

will  manifest  toward  us  the  same  aloof- 
ness as  is  shown  by  their  living 
co-religionists.      But   although 


OCR   CAMP  AT   THE   RABAT   POWDER    HOUSE 


304 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


our  foreground  is  not  cheerful  to  contemplate,  the  views  in 
two  directions  are  superb.  Looking  eastward  we  see  the  snow- 
white  city  with  its  "saint-houses  "  and  minarets,  and  in  the 
distance  the  square,  commanding  tower,  high  above  the  wind- 
ing river.  The  seaward  vista  is  not  less  attractive.  The  wide 
ocean  stretches  peacefully  westward  to  the  new  world  ;  at  our 
feet  the  warlike  pomp  of  the  old  world  is  displayed  in  the  six 


ABUKTAVER 


stately  camps  of  Bashas  from  the  interior  provinces.  These 
Bashas  have  come  to  Rabat  to  greet  the  Sultan  who,  with  his 
mighty  caravan,  is  expected  within  a  fortnight.  Four  thou- 
sand horsemen  are  assembled  at  Rabat  to  escort  the  Imperial 
train  from  Rabat  to  Fez.  Every  evening,  just  before  sun- 
set, fine  old  gentlemen  in  spotless  robes  of  white  toil  up  to 
our  hill-top,  and,  passing  our  camp  without  a  side  glance  or 
a  salutation,  spread  small  red  rugs  upon  the  tombs,  seat 
themselves  thereon,  and  watch  the  slow  sun  sink  into  the 
progressive  west.     Then   in   the   twilight   they  rise,    fold   up 


THE  HASAN  TOWER- RABAT 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


307 


their  rugs,  and  with  a  measured  tread  return  to  the  white  city 
whence  they  came.  Seven  times  we  saw  the  same  old 
worthies  come,  watch,  and  depart,  but  never  was  there  a 
glance  of  recognition,  never  a  sign  they  are  conscious  of  our 
presence  amid  the  resting-places  of  their  dead.  Therefore 
we  were  surprised,  one  evening,  when  three  dignified  person- 
ages halted  before  our  tents,  spoke  a  few  words  to   Haj,  and 


J^\!w'^Sm  ■*BSfiBil*.. , 


-   •  y  -»*   ^ 


THE   CA.MI- 


i\  KRNORS 


then  sat  down  on  tombstones  and  began  a  serenade  with  a 
violin,  a  tambourine,  and  a  peculiar  form  of  Oriental  guitar. 
A  glance  at  their  dress  tells  us  that  these  men  are  Jews  ;  a 
word  of  explanation  from  Haj  tells  us  that  they  are  sent  to 
play  for  us  by  the  local  Consular-Agent  of  the  United  States, 
a  native  Jew,  upon  whom  we  had  called  the  day  before. 
Among  the  European  residents  of  this  remote  port  is  an 
eccentric  Englishman  from  Gibraltar  who  has  built  for  him- 
self in  Rabat  the  tallest  dwelling  in  Morocco,  a  house  of  four 
stories,  its  facade  conspicuous  because  of  its  unusual  height 


3o8 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


and  its  coat  of  bright  blue  paint.  On  several  occasions  the 
owner  of  this  unique  Moorish  skyscraper  entertained  us  at 
dinner,  and  insisted  that  we  should  lodge  under  his  aspiring 
roof  on  stormy  nights,  when  our  camp  was  drenched  with 
rain.      In  view  of  this   cordial  treatment  extended  to  entire 

strangers,    we    are    surprised 
to  learn  that  our  host  is 


MINSTRELS   OF    ISRAKL 


not  on  speaking  terms  with  other  members  of  the  foreign 
colony.  That  he  lives  practically  alone,  attended  by  an  old 
Spanish  housekeeper.  In  every  corner  of  the  world  the  trav- 
eler is  sure  to  find  the  solitary  Englishman  dwelling  in  Anglo- 
Saxon  seclusion  and  independence  amid  strange  peoples, 
sufBcient  unto  himself,  his  house  his  castle,  his  excuse  for 
self-banishment  the  remark,  "Oh,  I  rather  like  the  place, 
you  know;    good    air,    fine  climate." 

Rabat  is  primarily  a  place  of  business  ;  the  markets  and 
bazaars  are  always  thronged.  Rug-making  is  the  industry 
for  which  the  port  is  noted,  and  every  day  we  see  itinerant 
auctioneers,    weighted   down   with    brilliant  carpets  trudging 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


309 


through  the  streets,  calHng  the  latest  bid,  and  offering  the 
fabric  for  the  examination  of  would-be  purchasers.  Unfor- 
tunately, modern  Rabat  carpets,  like  Navajo  blankets,  have 
suffered  from  the  introduction  of  aniline  dyes.  The  colors 
are  crude,  the  designs  less  artistic  than  in  earlier  times. 
The  local  industry,  once  carried  to  perfection,  is  fast  degen- 
erating, and  Rabat  rugs  are  no  longer  things  of  worth  and 
beauty. 

In  all  things  the  Moors  have  continually  retrograded  since 
the  conquest  of  Granada.  From  one  of  the  foremost,  they 
— I  have  become  almost  the  last  of  nations  ; 
their  arts,  their  sciences,  their  indus- 
tries forgotten,  nothing  remains  to 
them  save  their  skill  in  horseman- 
ship, their  bravery  in  battle,  and  their 
fixed  belief  in  the  predestination  of  all 
things,    good    or  evil. 

A  crazy  saint  replied  when  we  re-^ 
proached  him  for  be- 
ing drunk  with  rum, 
"  It  is  no  sin.  It  is 
written."  Those 
fatalistic  words,  "  It 
is  written —  God  has 
willed  it, ' '  have  been 
the  cause  of  Moorish 
retrogression.  They 
have  robbed  the  peo- 
ple of  ambition  and 
energy  ;  the  Moor,  in 
time  of  disaster, 
shifts  the  responsi- 
bility upon  Allah,  and 
murmurs  resignedly, 


THE   TALLEST   HOl'SE    IN    MOROCCO 


3IO 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


BUSINESS   IN   RABAT 


"  It  is  written.  "  This  philosophy  helps  him  to  bear  the  ills 
of  life,  great  and  small.  For  example,  if  a  Moor  chances  to 
seat  himself  upon  a  tack,  he  does  not  curse  nor  swear  nor 
rail  at  fate,  nor  does  he  wince  as  he  withdraws  the  offending 
point.  Far  be  it  from  him  to  protest.  He  simply  murmurs, 
"It  is  written,"  and  carefully  replaces  the  tack  for  some 
other  Moor  to  sit  upon. 

On  the  fifth  morning  of  our  sojourn  in  Rabat,  we  note  a 
mighty  stir  m  all  the  military  camps  within  and  roundabout 
the  city.      Mysterious  moving  statues  appear  upon  the  house- 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


311 


tops  to  watch  the  passing  of  armed  men  through  the  streets. 
Troops  of  gorgeously  arrayed  horsemen  gallop  across  the 
town,  filling  the  narrow  lanes  and  covered  bazaars  with  clat- 
ter and  confusion.  We  ask  the  cause  of  all  this  sudden  ani- 
mation. The  answer  is,  "The  Prince  arrives  to-day.  Our 
future  Sultan,  Abd-el-Aziz,  is  approaching  from  the  south  to 
herald  the  advance  of  his  imperial  father,  Mulai  El-Hasan  III, 
who  returns  victorious  from  Tafilet  and  Tadla  where  he  has 
chastised  the  revolted  tribes  and  '  eaten  up  '  rebellious  prov- 
inces. ' '  The  Sultan  had  written  to  the  waiting  Bashas  in 
words  like  these  :  ' '  To  you  do  I  confide  my  best  beloved 
son,  my  Mulai  Abd-el-Aziz.  Receive,  protect,  and  honor 
him  as  if  he  were  myself  and  something  more."  That 
' '  something  more  ' '  bore  a  deep  meaning,  which  was  to  be 
revealed  within  six  days. 

Rabat  turns  itself  wrong-side-out  to  welcome  the  young 
prince.  The  Bashas  and  Kaids,  who,  with  their  retinues,  have 
been  awaiting  Imperial  orders,  now  sally  out  from  the  south 


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JllNEKA.M    ALCTIONKERS 


312 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


RABAT  RUGS 


gates,  followed  by  the  entire  population  in  festival  attire. 
We  mount  our  horses,  and  with  Haj  and  Kaid  Lharbi  as 
escort  join  in  this  picturesque  exodus.  An  hour  later  we 
find  ourselves  in  the  midst  of  an  armed  multitude,  massed  on 
the  hillsides  stretching  southward  from  the  city  walls  and 
overlooking  the  narrow  plain  along  the  sea-shore,  which  is  to 
be  the  avenue  of  approach  for  the  princely  caravan.  We  are 
the   only  white   men   in  that   vast  expectant  throng,  the  only 

' '  Christian    dogs  ' '  who  have  vent- 
ured   beyond    the    gates.      Haj 
wears    an   anxious  look  ;    he 
knows  that  we  are  acting 
rashly    in   thus    exposing 
ourselves    unguarded    to 
the    whims  of  an  army 
of    fanatics.       But    the 
spectacle    is    worth    the 
risk.        Four    thousand 
cavaliers    are     assembled 
along-  the  crests  of  the  hills 


IT    IS    WRITTEN  " 


eiATE  OF  SHELLA 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


315 


or  in  the  plain  below,  where  battle  seems  to  rage,  for 
thence  rises  the  smoke  of  oft-repeated  volleys  and  the  roar 
of  musketry.  Troop  after  troop  is  there  performing  the 
"  powder  play,  "  Lab-el-Baroud,  that  very  thrilling  cavalry- 
manoeuver  peculiar  to  the  "rough  riders  "  of  the  Arab  race. 


MYSTERIOUS    MOVING    STATUES   ON   THE    HOUSE-TOPS 

A  dozen  cavaliers  advance  in  a  broad  platoon,  first  at 
canter,  then  full  gallop,  then  at  a  furious  run,  voitrc  d  tcrrc, 
the  horses  at  their  highest  speed,  the  men  erect  in  the  stir- 
rups, spinning  and  tossing  their  glittering  flintlocks,  until,  at 
a  word  from  the  chief,  triggers  are  drawn,  and  the  troop  van- 
ishes into  a  cloud  of  smoke.  When  the  smoke  rolls  away, 
there  are  the  panting  horses  thrown  back  on  their  haunches, 
motionless  as  statues  ;  and  then,  before  we  can  give  vent  to 
our  admiration,  another  troop  comes  thundering  along, 
another    volley    racks    the    ears  and  clouds  the  air,   another 


3i6 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


ALL    HORSEMEN    SALLY   SOUTHWARD 


tableau  forms,  and  dissolves  in  drifting  smoke,  until  it  seems 
as  if  all  the  hosts  of  the  Prophet  were  joining  in  a  universal 
fantasia  in  honor  of  the  young  prince  who  some  day  will  be 
Commander  of  the  Faithful,  successor  to  the  Shareefian 
throne  founded  by  the  grandson  of  Mohammed. 


A   BASHA  AND   HIS  TROOP  AT   REST 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


317 


Then,  when  the 
troops  are  weary, 
two  horsemen  more 
energetic  than  the 
rest  dash  furiously  at 
one  another  and  with- 
out colliding  they  ex- 
change muskets  and 
deftly,  instantaneous- 
ly, kiss  each  other  on 
the  cheek. 


3iS 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


MULAI    ABD-El.-AZIZ    APPROACHING    RABAT 


Meantime  a  slow,  silent,  interminable  caravan  has  been 
creeping  along  the  shore.  As  far  as  the  eye  can  reach  in 
both  directions,  the  shore  is  dotted  with  tiny  moving  spots, 
some  red,  some  white,  some  brown,  as  if  a  tribe  of  giant 
ants  were  crawling  northward  toward  Rabat.  We  see  mules 
and  camels  laden  to  death,  urged  on  by  cruel  drivers  ;  we  see 
the  weary  foot-soldiers  dragging  themselves  along  clad  in  a 


THE    ENDLESS    LINE   OF    HORSEMEN 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


319 


ragged  suit  of  red  and  blue  ;  we  see  superb  Moors  in  spotless 
white,  dignitaries  of  the  imperial  household,  attended  by 
mounted  guards  and  running  servants. 

Suddenly  Haj  exclaims,  "There  is  the  prince!"  He 
points  to  a  white-robed  boy,  superbly  mounted,  with  an 
attendant  walking  at  each  stirrup.  Behind  him  comes  a 
litter  borne  by  two   mules   in  which  young   x\bd-el-x\ziz   may 


A    FRAGMENT   OK   THK    LIVING   WALL   OF    MEN   AND    HORSES 

repose  when  weary  of  the  saddle.  Then  follows  a  broad 
platoon  of  the  Imperial  Guards,  fierce  negro  cavaliers,  the 
Bokharis,  in  whom  alone,  of  all  the  army,  the  Sultan  places 
perfect  trust.  Slowly  the  prince's  train  nears  the  waiting 
multitude.  The  four  thousand  horsemen  on  the  hill-tops 
form  in  one  grand  line,  and,  as  the  future  ruler  of  Morocco 
comes  in  view,  that  mighty  rank  of  flesh  and  blood  descends 
majestically  to  the  plain  like  a  foamy  wave  receding  from  a 
beach.  No  illustration  can  suggest  the  majesty  of  that 
spectacle.       The  endless    line    of  white,    so    faint    and    dim, 


320 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


which  undulates  along  the  hillsides,  is  in 
reality  the  Moorish  army  drawn  up  in 
one  unbroken  rank,  a  living  wall 
along  which  the  son  of  Mulai  El- 
Hasan  is  to  pass,  receiving  hom- 
age from  the  troop  of  every  Kaid 
and  Basha.  As  far  as  we  can 
see,  the  line,  though  curved  and 
bent  by  the  inequalities  of  the 
ground,  is  perfect,  unbroken, 
the  white,  flowing  garments  of 
the  horsemen  looking  like  a  mere 
thread  lying  along  the  slope  and 
stretching  away  over  the  summit  of 
a  distant  hill  even  to  the  city  gates. 
As  soon  as  the  prince's  train  has  passed 
us,  we  dash  across  its  wake  and  ride 
"~^^"'^^°''"1^LhroTokmoro'cco''''  along  behind  that  wall  of  horsemen, 
peering  through  it  at  Abd-el-Aziz  as  he  halts  before  each 
governor  to  receive  the  homage  of  the  tribes.  My  one 
thought  is  to  make  a  photograph  of  the  prince  during 
one    of    his    brief    pauses.     Three    times  do  I  just   miss  my 


THE  BASHA  WITH  HIS  BANNERS  AND  BRIGADE 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


323 


THE   SPECTACLE    IS   NOT    FOR   UNBELIEVERS 


'^  '  opportunity.  But  at  last,  riding  on  in  advance,  I  take 
position  directly  behind  two  horsemen  who  appear  like  men 
of  prominence,  and  there  await  the  passing  of  the  imperial 
youth.  As  Abd-el-Aziz  approaches,  I  am  trembling  with 
excitement  and  anxiety  ;  if  I  succeed,    I  shall  have    accom- 


AWAITING   THE    IMPERIAI 


324 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


THE  EMPEROR 

ENTERS  RABAT 


plished  what  never  be- 
fore has  been  done  ;  if  I 
am  detected  in  the  act  of 
copying  the  features  of 
the  sacred  youth,  the 
consequences  may  be 
serious — men  have  been 
killed  for  lesser  sacrilege. 
The  prince  draws  nearer  ; 
to  my  joy  he  halts  di- 
rectly before  the  men 
who  shield  me  from  his 
look.  Just  as  he  draws 
rein,  the  horses  prance 
apart  and  leave  an  open- 
ing in  the  line.  Through 
this  gap  the  Prince  looks 

wonderingly  at  me  as  I  make  a  profound 
salute,  and  at  the  same  time  level  my  camera,  and 
with  a  trembling  finger  press  the  button.  The  click  of  inc 
shutter  sends  a  cold  chill  through  me.  I  raise  my  hat  and 
bow  a  second  time.  Abd-el-Aziz  looks  squarely  at  me,  his 
face  impassive  and  expressionless.  He  slightly  inclines  his 
head.  Meantime  the  horsemen,  with  heads  bent  low,  utter 
in  unison,  with  religious  intonation,  the  words,  "God  bless 
the  days  of  our  lord  !  "      "  God  send  our  lord  victorious  !  ' ' 

These  words  should  be  spoken  only  to  the  Sultan  ;  but 
has  not  Mulai  El-Hasan  commanded  the  Faithful  to  receive 
his  son,   as  if  he  were   "myself  and  something  more  "? 

The  Prince  is  in  appearance  older  than  his  age,  being  in 
his  fifteenth  year.  In  his  mien  there  is  a  dignity  beyond  his 
years  He  looks  the  Sultan,  and  I  recall  the  words  of  Haj  : 
"  He  may  succeed  his  father  before  many  months  are  past, 
for  rumor  has  it  that  El-Hasan  III  is  hastening  back  to  Fez  to 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


325 


die."  Strange  indeed  that 
this  thought  should  have 
come  to  me  just  then,  for  at 
the  very  moment  that  my 
eyes  met  those  of  Abd-el- 
Aziz,  he  was  already  Sultan 
—  he  was  the  Great  Com- 
mander of  the  Faithful.  The 
boy  himself  did  not  then  know 
it  ;  the  army  and  the  people 
were  still  ignorant  of  the 
event  ;  but  that  very  morn- 
ing the  old  Emperor,  Mulai 
El-Hasan  III,  had  "received 
the  visit  of  death,"  and  had 
closed  his  long  career  of  mili- 
tary journeyings.  We  therefore  looked  upon  the  face  of  one 
who  almost  within  the  hour  had  been  called  to  rule  the 
destinies  of  dark  Moghreb,  to  sit  on  the  Shareelian  throne, 
to  become  the  feared  and  hated  ruler  of  a  semi-barbarous 
land,  to  bear  the  Imperial  burden  of  a  direct  descendant  of 
Mohammed. 

So  absorbed  are  we    in   studying  the  face  and  manner   of 
Abd-el-Aziz,    that    we    forget    our    whereabouts,    forget    the 

r-  1 


A    VVOULD-BIi     CUSTOMER     OF     "  WINCHESTEP 
BROS." 


IHk  bL  1.  1  AN  S  BARGE  AND  THE 
ENTIRE  MOORISH  NAVY  OF 
TO-DAY 


326 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


thousands  of  horsemen  who  are  chanting  their  welcome  to  the 
son  of  their  Emperor.  But  when,  a  moment  later,  the  Prince 
rides  on,  we  are  suddenly  aroused  to  a  sense  of  our  perilous 
situation.  The  troops  which  formed  the  left  wing  of  the 
host,  and  have  already  rendered  their  salute,  have  now 
broken  rank  and  come  dashing  northward  behind  the  line  of 
cavaliers,  that  they  may  fall   in  at   the   upper  end  of  the  line 


THE    EMPEROR    RETURNING    FROM   SAI,LI 


and  be  at  hand  to  take  part  in  the  final  powder  play  as  the 
Prince  enters  the  city  gate.  A  Basha,  followed  by  his  ban- 
ner-bearers, advances  toward  us,  his  brigade  forming  a  pha- 
lanx so  broad  that  we  cannot  hope  to  avoid  its  onrush.  To 
the  right  escape  is  barred  by  the  long  file  of  white-robed 
riders  ;  to  the  left  we  dare  not  ride,  for  another  troop  is  there 
racing  past  at  full  gallop.  We  are  hemmed  in.  There  is 
nothing  for  it  but  to  join  in  the  tumultuous  rush  of  the  wave 
of  horses    and    men    which    is    thundering    toward    us.      We 


^ 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


329 


urge  our  horses  to  their  utmost  speed,  and  a  moment  later  we 
find  ourselves  engaged  in  a  race  for  safety,  a  roaring  torrent 
of  Moorish  warriors  surging  roundabout  us.  Should  our 
horses  stumble,  we  are  lost.  No  power  on  earth  can  stem 
that  furious  tide.  Our  only  salvation  is  coolly  to  guide  our 
running  steeds,  avoiding  obstacles  and  collisions  ;  but  how 
easily  an  angered  Moor,  indignant  at  our  having  looked 
squarely  into    the    sacred    countenance  of  his    prince,   could 


SHIP  ahoy!    breaking  camp 


ride  us  down,  and  attribute  the  accident  to  our  rash  attempt 
to  emulate  the  rough-riders  of  the  Moroccan  plains  ! 

Thus  we  are  swept  onward  as  by  the  surge  of  a  white- 
crested  wave,  until  the  torrent  breaks  against  the  grim  old 
walls  of  Rabat,  and  the  flood  of  horsemen  recoils,  divides, 
and  spreads  itself  on  either  side  of  the  trail  leading  to  a 
massive    medieval   gate. 

The  scene  recalls  the  days  of  the  Crusades.  An  armed 
host  is  at  the  gate  of  a  walled  city,  fantastic  banners  wave, 
the  clash  and  roar  of  battle  and  the  tramp  of  many  hoofs  is 
heard,  and  then  a  mighty  shout  rings  from  six  thousand 
throats  as  the  gate  swings  open  to  admit  an  Emperor's  son. 


330 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


The  spectacle  is  not  for  un- 
believers, but  we  have  cau- 
tiously  drawn  near  enough 
to  witness  the  triumphal 
entry  and  to  hear  the  shrill 
salutations  of  the  thou-   ,-^ 
sand  closely  veiled 
Moorish  women  who  are 
massed  on    either  side 
of  the  imposing  portal. 

Then  follows  a  mad  regrets! 

rush  cityward  of  soldiers  and  civilians.  The  tortuous  pas- 
sages of  the  old  gates  are  choked  for  hours  with  swirling 
currents  of  humanity.  By  the  time  we  have  reached  our 
camp  by  a  circuitous  route,  Abd-el-Aziz  is  safely  housed  in 
the  Imperial  Palace  of  Rabat.  The  dying  wish  of  Mulai 
El-Hasan  has  been  accomplished,  his  favorite  son,  and  ap- 
pointed successor,  has  reached  in  safety  a  fortified  city,  and 
has  been  joined  by  a  large  and  loyal  force  under  the  com- 
mand of  trusted  chiefs.  This  has  been  done  before  the 
elder  son,  or  the  ambitious  uncle,  has  had  time  to  learn  of 
Mulai  El-Hasan's  death,  and  to  raise  the  standard  of  revolt. 
Seldom  it  is  that  a  Sultan  mounts  peacefully  to  his  throne. 
There  are  always  many  claimants,  each  supported  by  a 
faction  ;  and  had  Hasan  s  death  been  known  in  Fez  while 
Abd-el-Aziz  was  on  the  road,  he  never  would  have  had 
a  chance  at  the  succession  despite  the  expression  of  his 
father's  will. 

On  the  day  of  his  proclamation  the  young  Sultan  makes 
a  triumphal  progress  through  the  streets.  He  rides  a  superb 
horse,  with  rich  green  trappings.  His  form  is  hid  in  folds  of 
white.  On  either  side  walks  the  Mul-es-Shuash,  a  trusted 
retainer  charged  with  the  task  of  waving  a  cloth  to  flick 
imaginary  flies  from  the  Imperial  Master.     The  Sultan  lacks, 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


331 


however,  the  most  important  insignia  of  Moorish  Majesty, 
the  scarlet  umbrella,  which  is  now  being  carried  across  the 
southern  plains  in  the  funeral  cortege  of  his  father.  Com- 
panies of  red-clothed  infantry  guard  the  prince  ;  he  is  fol- 
lowed by  a  hundred  dignified  Moors  magnificently  mounted. 
His  passing  is  greeted  with  enthusiastic  shouts  from  the  men 
in  the  streets,  and  shrill  piercing  cries,  of  "  You,  you,  you  !  " 
from  hundreds  of  veiled  women  on  the  house-tops. 

We  follow  the  procession  to  the  beach,  and  watch  the 
Emperor  embark  on  the  Imperial  barge,  which  will  bear  him 
to  Salli  to  pray  in  one  of  the  historic  mosques.  A  short  dis- 
tance up  the  river  the  entire  Moorish  Navy  lies  at  anchor  — 
a  solitary  little  steam-yacht,  dressed  with  many  flags,  but  too 
poor  even  to  fire  a  salute.  An  hour  later  his  Majesty  returns 
and,  joined  by  the  prmcely  retinue  in  waitmg  on  the  Rabat 
side,  re-enters  the  city  to  confer  with  the  viziers  of  his  late 
father  and  make  plans  for  a  triumphal  progress  inland  to 
Fez,   his  capital. 

With  intense  interest  we  have  followed  these  events  ;  we 
are  conspicuously  unwelcome  to  the  Moors,  being  forced  into 


prominence  in  our  efforts  to  attain 
points   of   view   for   making    photo- 


effective 
graphic  rec- 
ords of  these 
j  historic  inci- 
dents. We 
wonder  why 
we  are  not 
molested  — 
why  we  are 


THK    FINAL    "  PACK-UP  ' 


232 


THE  MOORISH   EMPIRE 


has  been  said  already,  there  are  no  roads  in  this  wild  land  ; 
the  slow  caravans  and  the  swift  troops  of  Moorish  horsemen 
have  followed  the  hoofmarks  left  by  the  caravans  or  troops 


MIDWAY   BETWEEN  FEZ  AND  MEQUINEZ 


which  have  preceded  them,  until  a  system  of  narrow  trails 
meandering  in  uncertain  parallels  has  been  created  between 
the  inland  cities  and  the  sea. 

These  Moorish  highways  were  never  surveyed  and  never 
tended  ;  like  Topsy  —  who,  also,  by  the  way,  was  an  African 
product  —  they  were  never  born,  "they  just  growed  ;  "  and 
like  Topsy  they  are  wilfully  unreasonable  ;  they  exasperate 
us  by  their  defiance  of  conventionality  ;  amuse  us  with  their 
peculiar  antics,  and  delight  us   with  preposterous  surprises. 

As  an  example,  take  tiie  highway  that  leads  from  Fez  to 
the  neighboring  city  of  Mequinez.     As  we  approach  a  river, 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


233 


the  wandering  trails  converge  and  form  a  beaten  track  that 
grows  more  and  more  like  a  real  road  as  it  winds  down 
toward  a  substantial  bridge.  But  just  as  we  are  about  to 
compliment  the  road  on  its  reform,  it  suddenly  grows  weary 
of  good  behavior,  becomes  rebellious,  and,  like  a  balky  mule, 
refuses  to  cross  the  bridge.  Incredible  as  it  may  seem  to 
those  who  do  not  know  this  land  of  contradictions,  Moorish 
roads  will  not  cross  Moorish  rivers  by  means  of  Moorish 
bridges.  The  old  way  is  preferred.  Fording  was  good 
enough  in  the  old  days,  and  it  is  good  enough  to-day.  The 
roads  turn  sharply  from  the  bridge  abutments,  scramble  down 
the  muddy  banks,  and  plunge  into  the  yellow  rivers  to  emerge 
slimy  and  dripping  on  the  opposite  shore.  The  bridges,  pon- 
derously useless,  studiously  neglected,  are  falling  into  decay, 
and  have  become  almost  impassable. 

We  pitch  our  camp  not  far  from  one  of  those  disdained 
reminders  of  an  attempt  at  progress.  We  are  midway 
between  Fez  and  Mequinez  in  a  region  notorious  because  of 
the   thieving  bands   with  which   it   is   infested.       It   appears 


.....J 


MIDDAY    REPOSE 


334 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


of  a  coasting  merchant-ship  which  loomed  up  off  the  bar,  as 
the  fog  Hfted  shortly  after  sunrise. 

The  order  to  break  camp  is  given  ;  our  men  work  with  a 
will,  for  should  we  fail  to  reach  the  ship  in  time,  it  will  mean 


H^^^^Hb^^ 

♦\ 

w^^^^^^ 

READY   FOR   THE  BATTLE  WITH   THE  BREAKIJR? 

a  delay  of  at  least  two  weeks  or  a  long  land-journey  with  the 
animals,  along  the  sandy  coast  road  to  Tangier.  We  bid 
farewell  to  Achmedo,  Raid  Lharbi,  Abuktayer,  and  Bokhur- 
mur,  to  the  horses,  mules,  and  burros,  which  are  to  find  their 
way  slowly  back  to  Tangier  by  land,  while  we,  with  Haj  and 
remaining  provisions,  go  cruising  up  the  coast  in  comfort  on 
an  English  ship. 

Embarkation  at  Rabat  is  easier  to  plan  than  to  accom- 
plish. No  ship  can  cross  the  bar  ;  if  the  wind  blows  from 
the  west,  the  huge  native  lighters  cannot  climb  over  the 
inrolling  breakers,  and  the  ship,  after  a  courteous  delay, 
steams  off,  leaving  the  drenched,  discomfited  passengers  to 
return  shoreward  and  possess  their  souls  in  patience  until 
there  comes  the  happy  conjunction  of  a  passing  steamer  and 
a  calmer  day. 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


335 


Fortune,  however,  favored  us  in  this  as  it  did  in  all  other 
things  during  our  wanderings  in  Morocco.  True,  the  break- 
ers are  rolling  mountain-high  across  the  bar,  the  forty-foot 
lighter  is  tossed  like  an  egg-shell  on  their  crests,  or  dropped 
with  awful  suddenness  into  abysses  formed  between  cliffs  of 
green  transparent  water.  But  our  sturdy  crew  of  twenty 
Salli  men,  descendants  of  the  famous  Rovers,  attack  the  bil- 
lows with  that  dogged  perseverance  that  made  their  fathers 
the  masters  of  the  sea  and  all  that  sailed  upon  it.  Wave 
after  wave  sweeps  past^ — green-robed,  with  draperies  foaming 


FAREWELL  ! 


336 


THE  MOORISH  EMPIRE 


white,  as  if  the  cohorts  of  the  sea  were  striving  to  sur- 
pass the  Moorish  squadrons  in  a  glorious  lab-el-baroud  —  a 
powder  play  where  foam  and  spray  and  the  roar  of  waters 
supplant  the  flowing  burnooses,  rolling  smoke,  and  din  of 
volley  firing. 

This  is  our  last  impression  of  Morocco,  this  overwhelm- 
ing "fantasia"  of  the  billows.  And  as  we  look  back 
through  clouds  of  flying  spray  at  the  grim  Kasbah  of  Rabat, 
at  the  white  city,  and  the  smiling  hillsides  roundabout,  we 
say  with  Pierre  Loti,  "Farewell,  dark  Moghreb,  Empire  of 
the  Moors,  mayst  thou  remain,  many  years  yet,  immured, 
impenetrable  to  the  things  that  are  new  !  Turn  thy  back 
upon  Europe  !  Let  thy  sleep  be  the  sleep  of  centuries,  and 
so  continue  thine  ancient  dream.  And  may  Allah  preserve  to 
the  Sultan  his  unsubdued  territories  and  his  waste  places  car- 
peted with  flowers,  there  to  do  battle  as  in  old  times  the 
Paladins,  and  gather  in  his  harvest  of  rebel  heads  !  May 
Allah  preserve  to  the  Arab  race  its  mystic  dreams,  its  immu- 
tability scornful  of  all  things,  and  its  gray  rags  ;  may  he  pre- 
serve to  the  Moorish  ^  '~***v,^^  ruins  their  shrouds 
of  whitewash,  and  /^  n.  to  the  mosques 
their    inviolable    /            t    _Jii*C   »  \   mvsterv  !  " 


BATTLING  WITH  THE  BREAKERS 


Index  to  This  Volume 


Abd-el-Aziz,  ah  del  ah  sees'.    See  Mo- 
rocco, Sultan  of. 
Ab'sal  am,  Kaid  of  Boghari,  hospi- 
tality, 260-270. 
Abuktayer,    Morocco    caravan    ser- 
vant, 67,  234,  303,  334. 
Abyla,    ab'i  lah,    rock   of   Gibraltar, 

Spanish  penal  colony,  14. 
Achmedo,  ak  may'do,  Morocco  cara- 
van servant,  73-74,  234,  334. 
Aid-el-Kebir,  ah'eed  or  ide  el  ke  beer', 
feast  of,  Tangier  celebration,  46-51. 
Alcazar-el- Kebir,  al  ca  sar'el  ke  beer' : 
History,  80. 

Serenade  by  local  musicians,  83. 
Visit  of  U.   S.   Consular  agent  to 
caravan,  80. 
Alms-giving,  Tangier,  24-27.      (See 

also  Morocco.) 
Arabs : 

Horsemanship,  Beni  Hasan,  99-101, 

254. 
Morocco.     See  that  titie. 
Army: 

Procession  of  soldiers,  173-176. 
Rabat,     Prince     Mulai's     arrival, 
312-317. 
Arsenal,  Fez,  129. 
Astronomy,     Moorish    interest    in, 

261-262. 
Atlantic     Ocean,     approach     from 

Moorish  desert,  291-292. 
Barclay,    U.   S.   Consul  at   Tangier, 

visit  to,  56-59. 
Batteries,       antiquated,       Tangier, 

30,  ii. 
Battle,  Moorish  tribesmen,  in  sham. 

Beef,  rise  in,  Tangier,   19-20. 
Beggars: 

Crazy  neighbor  in  Fez,  186. 

Tangier.     See  that  title. 
Beni  Hasan,  bay' nee  has'san,  tribe: 

Adventure    with    tribesmen,    Yale 
yell,  99-101. 

Expeditions  in  country  of,  254-334. 

Horsemanship,  99-101,  254. 

Hostilities     with     Zimour     tribes, 
271-291. 

Rabat  tower,  301-302. 

Soko  in  the  wilderness,  dispute,  254. 
Beni  Zimour,  bay'nee  si  moor' .  hos- 
tilities with  Beni  Hasan,  271-291. 
Benlezrah,  U.  S.  consular  agent  at 
Fez,  159-160. 

(1)  337 


Bensimon,  Jewish  merchant  at  Fez, 

visit  to,  205-206. 
Blind  Beggar,  in  Tangier,  43. 
Bogari,   bo  gah'ree,  visit  to: 

Hospitality     of     Kaid     Absalam, 
260-270. 

Matinee    performance,    reputation 
as  conjurers,  262-265. 
Bokhurmur,  Morocco  caravan  ser- 
vant, 67,  234,  334. 
Bombay,     dower     of     Catarina     of 
Braganza  to  Charles  H  of  Eng- 
land, 22-23. 
Bridges,  Morocco  roads  refusing  to 

cross,  233. 
Bu  Ragreg  River,  ferry,  300-301. 
Galpe,  kal  paV,    fortress   of   Gibral- 
tar, 13-14. 
Caravan  Journey: 

Beni-Hasan    country,    expeditions 
in,  254-334. 

Beni-Hasan    tribesmen,    adventure 
with,  99-101. 

Camp,  first,  68-76. 

Curiosity  of  Villagers,  69-70. 

Cheznous,  73. 

Dinner,  75. 

Camp  between  Fez  and  Mequinez, 
233-234. 

Chinese      Moor,      meeting      with, 
235-239. 

Day's  journey,  108. 

Departure    from    Tangier,    58,    60, 
62-65. 

"Faithful  Five,"  60-67,  73,  122. 

Fez.     See  that  title. 

Final  breaking  up,  334. 

German  traveler,  caravan  ignored 
by,  86-87. 

Guide.     See  Haj. 

Halted  bv  Kaid  of  Twazit,  272. 

Inter-tribal    hostilities,    271-291. 

Mehedia.     See  that  title. 

Mequinez,     See  that  title. 

Military  Escort.    See  Kaid  Lharbi. 

Missing  men  and  mules,  234. 

Mules.     See  that  title. 

Prayers  for  success  of  journey,  etc  , 
64,  253. 

Progress  toward  the  sea,  291-292. 

Rabat.     See  that  title. 

Rest  hours,  102. 

Route  from  Fez,  231-233. 

Sultan's     harem,     meeting     with, 
298-299. 


Index — Conti 


Catarina  of  Braganza,     dower     to 

Charles  II  of  England,  22-23. 
Cattle  Embarkation, Tangier,  19-21. 
Cemeteries: 

Fez,  Jewish  quarter,  196-197. 
Rabat  camping  ground,  303-307. 
Ceuta,  thoo'tah  oi   thay'ootah,  Span- 
ish penal  colony,  14. 
Chicago,  description  of,  at  Moorish 

dinner  party,  192. 
Children,  Moorish,  pigtail  of,  27-28. 
Chinese  Moor,  traveler  in  Moroccan 

desert,  235-239. 
Christians: 

Fez  medical  mission,  178-180. 
Moorish  hatred  of,  40,  43-44,  125, 
130,  133. 
Clothing,  purchase  of,  83. 
Coin,    old,    refused    by    Moor,    acci- 
dent, 79. 
Commerce: 
Fez,  218-219. 
Wilderness  fair,  254-255. 
Conjuring: 

Bogari  performances,  262-265. 
Tangier  soko,  38-40. 
Consulates,  visit  to: 

British  consulate  at  Fez,   177-178. 
United  States  consulates: 
Alcazar-el-Kebir,  80-83. 
Fez,  159-160. 
Tangier,  55-59. 
Continental    Hotel,    Tangier,    25. 
Crazy  Saint,  Moroccan  mendicant, 

35-36. 
Cruelty  and  Childishness,  of  the 

people,  20,  84-85. 
Dress,  36-37. 

Haik,     women's     veil,     36,      134- 

135,  165. 
Jewish  people  in  Fez,  204. 
Tangier,  36-37. 
Embarkation,    at    Rabat,    334-336. 
Empire,  rise  and  permanence  of,  228. 
English  Wife,  of  Shareef  of  Wazzan, 

96-97. 
Euclid,  lost  books  of,  supposed  to  be 
in  Karueei'n  library  of  Fez,  168. 
"Europeail  Room,"  Jewish  Moors, 

206. 
Extent,  Moorish  ideas  of,  105. 
Fairs,  in  the  wilderness,  255. 
Farewell  to  Morocco,  334-336. 
Fez: 

Antiquity  and  backward  state  of, 

117. 
Approach  to,  109-111. 

First  sight  of  city,  117-118. 
Arsenal  of  Sultan,  129. 
Banker  and  his  office,  153,  159-160. 


Basha: 

Palace  of,  136-138. 

Provision    for   visitors,    138-142. 
Business  men,  crowd  of,  159. 
Coach  given  by  Queen  Victoria  to 

Sultan,  217. 
Commerce,  218-219. 
Consulate,    British,   visit   to,    177- 

178. 
Crime  less  than  in  other  capitals, 

217. 
Description,  109-111. 
Dinner   with    minister   of   finance, 

189-192. 
Dress  of  rich  men,  155. 
Fall  of,  110. 

Fanaticism,     stronghold     of     Mo- 
hammed's faith,  122. 
Fondaks  for  men  and  mules,   136. 
Foreign    intrusion,    opposition    to, 

122-123,  125. 
Fort,  abandoned,  venture  into,  177. 
Garden  region,  125,  142. 
Gates: 

Closed  at  early  hours,  214. 

Designed    to    impede    progress, 
129-130. 

Justice,  gate  of,  176. 
Ghetto.     See    subheading    Jewish 

Quarter. 
Governor.     See  subheading  Basha. 
Hotels,    unfit    for   foreigners,    136. 
House: 

Garden,  146. 

Jewish   maid-of-all-work,    151. 

Order  out  of  chaos,  151-152. 

Picnic,  211-213. 

Unfavorable  exterior  and  charm- 
ing interior,  143. 

Willing  prisoners  in  Fez,  149. 
Housetops: 

Jewish  place  of  exercise.  212. 

Last  evening  in  Fez,  220-223. 

Sacred  to  women,  220. 
Jewish  quarter: 

Bensimons,  visit  to,  205-206. 

Cemetery,  homes  of  living  and 
dead,  195-197. 

Dead  animals  deposited  at  gates 
by  Moors,  203. 

Dress  of  people,  204. 

Early  marriages,  206 

"European  room,"  206. 

Israelite     Alliance     school     and 
charities,  198-199,  208. 

Misery  ot  the  people,  196-197. 

Picnic,  211-213. 

Pierre  Loti's  description,  199-200. 

Religion,  reality  of,  205-206. 

Restrictions  on  Jews,  168. 


338 


Index  —  Continued 


Sanitary   necessities,    199-203. 

Thrift     of     Jewish     merchants, 
204-205. 
Kardeein: 

Euclid,  lost  books  of,  in  library, 
168. 

Forbidden  to  foreigners,  166-167. 

Library,  168. 

Maps  of  the  world  in  use,  170 

Photographs  obtained  with  diffi- 
culty, 167. 

Rank  in  the  past,  168. 

Teachings,  168-170. 

Tholbas  or  student's  camp,  171. 
Last  evening  in  Fez,  223-224. 
Mail  from  America,  152. 
Medical  mission  of  Christian  wo- 
men, 178-180. 
Medina,  124,  135,  153. 
Mellah.     See     subheading     Je2vish 

Quarter. 
Metropolis,   modern   idea   of,    115- 

116. 
Mosques: 

Barriers      against      unbelievers, 
162-166. 

Karueein.     See  that  subheading. 
Neighbors: 

Crazy  neighbor,  186. 

Curiosity  concerning,  181. 

Photographed     by     stealth, 
182-185. 

Servants,      acquaintance      with, 
187. 
New  Fez,  124,  129,  172. 
Newspaper  printed  in  Cairo,   166. 
Old  Fez,  the  Medina,  124,  135,  153. 
Palaces: 

Basha,  137. 

Sultan,  131. 
Photographing  difficulties,  153-155, 

167,  180,  182. 
Picnic,  211-213. 

Religious   observances,    156-159. 
Repairs  considered  sacrilegious,  156. 
Return  from  Fez  to  the  sea,  231. 
Schools: 

Israelite  Alliance,    198-199,   208. 

Tabeebas,  178-180. 
Situation  of  the  city,  123-125. 
Slaves  and  slave  market,  187. 
Soldiers,  procession,  173-176. 
Squares  and  crumbling  walls,  132- 

155-156,  159. 
Stork  house,  294. 
Story-teller  and  audience,  126. 
Streets: 

Astonishing   to   men   of   modern 
world,  217-218-220. 

Dark  and  dangerous,  153-154. 


Tabeebas,     medical     mission    and 

school,  178-180. 
Tea-drinking    in    Moorish    homes, 

_  182-206-211. 
University.     See  subheading,  Kar- 
ueein. 
Villa.     See  subheading  House. 
Water  running,  sounds  of,  214. 
Women.     See  that  title. 
Fondaks,  Fez,  136. 
Free   Life,    of   the    plains,    pleasure 

of   235. 
French   Israelite   Alliance,    school 

at  Fez,  189,  199,  208. 
Gates.     See  Fez. 
German     Caravan,     in     Morocco, 

86-87. 
Gibraltar,  rocks  of  Abyla  and  Calpe, 

13-14. 
Great  Britain: 

Bombay,    dower    of    Catarina    to 

Charles  II,  23. 
Coach  presented  to  Sultan  of  Mo- 
rocco by  Queen  Victoria,  217. 
Consulate  at  Fez,  visit  to,  177-178. 
Tangier,  occupation  of,  22-23. 
Grief,    Moorish   expression   of,    278. 

281. 
Haik,  ha'eek,  Tangier  women's  dress 

26,  134-135,  165. 
Haj    Abd-er-Rah'man    Sala'ma, 
Moorish  guide: 
Culinary  talent,  74-75,  234. 
Introduction,  60-61. 
Lodgings    obtained    at    Fez,    136- 

138,  143, 152. 
Photographing     aids,      155,      361, 

266,  269. 
Picnic  preparations,  212-213. 
Pitches  camp,  68,  70. 
Quarrel  at  fair,  256. 
Tact  and  cleverness,  122. 
Translating    at    shareef's    palace. 

90,92. 
"Winchester       Brothers,"       pseu- 
donym   invented    for    safety    of 
Holmes'  party,  3^2-333. 
Hamman    Slawi,     U.    S.    consular 
agent  at  Alcazar  el  Kebir,  80-83. 
Harems : 

Fez,  photographing,  182-185. 
Morocco,  Sultan  of,  meeting  with 

women  of  harem,  298-299. 
Tangier,  Basha  of,  52-55. 
Hats,  made  by  women  of  Tetuan,  66. 
Hercules,    hnr'ku    leez.    Pillars    of, 

Gibraltar,  13. 
Holmes,    E.    Burton,    biogiaphical 

sketch,  3. 
Holy  City.     See  Wazzan. 


339 


Index — Continued 


Horsemanship : 

Beni  Hasan  tribe,  99-101,  254. 
Mulai  Ismail,  dexterity,  247. 
Hospitality: 

Robber  Kaids,  259-260. 
Tangier,  foreigners'  hospitality,  60. 
Hotels: 

Fez,  conditions  in,  136. 
Tangier,  24. 
House,  tallest,  307. 
Housetops.     See  Fez. 
Impressions,  first  and  last,  17.  336. 
Indifference,   of   Moors   to   outside 

world,  105-166. 
"It    is    Written,"    words   cause    of 
Moorish    retrogression,    309-310. 
Jews: 

Consular  Agent  of   U.   S.   at   Fez, 

159-160. 
Fez.     See  that  title. 
Maid-of-all-work  in  Fez,  151. 
Porters  in  Tangier,  21. 
Protection,  by  foreign  powers,  162. 
Restrictions  and  injustice  in  Fez, 

162,  196-197. 
Serenade  at  Rabat,  307. 
Raid  Lharbi,  ka'  eed  lahr'bee,  mili- 
tary escort,  61,  63,  65,  105,  234, 
298,  334. 
Karueei'n,  kar  u  ee'in.     See  Fez. 
Kasbah-Gates,  Mequinez,  249-250. 
Keef  Smoking,  74. 
Koran,  ko  rahn',  picture-making  pro- 
hibited by,  153. 
Library,  Fez  Karueei'n,  168. 
Louis    XIV,    daughter's    hand    de- 
manded in  marriage  by  Sultan 
of  Morocco,  248. 
Maclean,    Raid,    transformation   of 

Moorish  army  by,  173. 
Macleod,  British  vice-consul  at  Fez: 
Dining  with  a  Moor,  188-192. 
Visit  to,  177-178. 
Map  of  the  World,  in  use  at  Fez, 

170. 
Markets  or  Fairs.     See  Sokos. 
Marriage,  earlv,  among  the  Jews  in 

Morocco,  199. 
Maxims  and  Proverbs,  28. 
Medical  aid,   asked  of  white   men, 

96-99. 
Medical  Mission,  in  Fez,   178-180. 
Mehedia,  may  hay  dee' ah: 
Dilapidation,  292. 
Marksmanship  of  Kaid,  297. 
Storks  and  men,  292-293. 
Mellah.     See  Fez,  Jewish  Quarter. 
Mequinez,  mek'  nez: 

Camp    midway   between    Fez   and 
Mequinez,  233-234. 


Chinese  traveler  from,   238-239. 
Curiosity  of  one  citizen,  249. 
Depopulated  state  of,  241-249. 
Eagle  shot  in,  249. 
Kasbah  gate,  tragedy  of,  249-250. 
Masonrv,   mania  of  Mulai   Ismail. 

240-244. 
North  gate  leading  to  emptv  city, 

241,  250. 
Palace  of  the  Sultan,  241-244. 
Route  from  Fez,  231-233. 
Ruins  of  buildings  of  Mulai  Ismail, 

240-244. 
Stables,  imperial,  endless  aisles  of, 

244. 
Walls  guarding  approach,  239-240. 
Metropolis,     modern     idea     of     a, 

compared  with  Fez,  115-116. 
Minister  of  Finance,  dinner  with, 

189-192. 
Missions  and  Missionaries: 
Fez  medical  mission,  178-180. 
Tangier,   market-place  sermon   in- 
cident, 44. 
Mc  ;hreb-al-Aksa,  mo  greb  al  ak'  sa, 

224,  336. 
Moham'med,  importance  of  descent 

from,  88. 
Mohammedans : 
Calendar,  162. 
Feast.     See  Aid-el-Kebir. 
Religious  Observances,  156-159. 
Moors: 

Return  to   Morocco  after  banish- 
ment from  Spain,  228. 
Spanish    Life    of,    prior    to    1492, 

227-228. 
Moroc'co: 

Backward  state  of,  14,  18,  309. 
Capital  of.     See  Fez. 
Civilization,    termination    of,    out- 
side Tangier,  65. 
Farewell  to,  334,  336. 
National     existence      before      and 

since  conquest  of  Spain,  227-228. 
Morocco,  Sultan  of: 

Abdallah    Mohammed,    exequatur 

to  first  L^.  S.  consul,  56. 
Abd-el-Aziz: 

Accession  and  proclamation,  323, 
330-331. 

Photograph,  320,  324. 

Rabat,        arrival        ceremonies, 
311,330. 
Ancestry  from  Mohammed,  88-89. 
Mulai  El-Hasan: 

Arsenal,  129. 

Builder  of  palaces,  131. 

Coach,    gift   of   Queen   \'ictoria, 
217. 


340 


Index — Continued 


Death,  324-325. 
Dying  wish  fulfilled,  330. 
Fez,  absence  from,  172. 
Harem,  caravan  of,  298-299. 
Rabat,     imperial     caravan     ex- 
pected, 304,  307. 
Son,      at      Rabat,      succession, 

311-331. 
Tangier  disowned  by,  24. 
Zimour      tribe,      trouble      with, 
273,  275. 
Alulai  Ismail: 

Boulevard  projected,  241. 
Children,  number  of,  248. 
Dexterity  as  a  horseman,  217. 
Mania  for  building,  240,  244. 
Marriage     proposed     to    daughter 

of  Louis  XIV,  248. 
Murder  of  wives  and  slaves,  247. 
Stables,  miles  of,  244. 
Tragedy  of  Kasbah  Gate,  249-250. 
Tvrant  of  sixteenth  centur\',   244, 

'250. 
Palaces.     See  that  title. 
Robbery    of    rich    subjects    u  iless 
protected  by  foreign  powers,  161. 
Yakub-el-Mansur,  builder  of  tow- 
ers, 302. 
Mosques,  masks,  Fez,  162,  166. 
"Mouna,"      moo'na,     contributions 
levied     on     tribes     by     official 
travelers,  69. 
Mulai-el-Hasan,  moo  lie  el  has'an. 

See  Morocco,  Sultan  of. 
Mulai  Ismail,    moo   lie   is'may  eel. 

See  Morocco,  Sultan  of. 
Mulai   Yakuh,  moo  lie  ya'koob.     See 
Morocco,  Sultan  of.     Subheading, 
Yakut  el  Mansur. 
Mules: 

Cruelty  of  Moors  to,  85,  136. 
Stuck    fast    in    narrow    streets    of 
Fez,  144. 
Navy,  331. 

Neighbors  in  Fez.     See  Fez. 
Oasis,  235. 

Omar,  Moorish  guest  at  picnic,  213. 
Oppression,  of  the  people  in  admin- 
istration of  justice,  78,  98,   160, 
162,  176. 
"Painting  Machine,"  the  camera  in 

Morocco,  153,  185,  261. 
Palaces : 

Abandoned  palaces  of  emperors  of 

the  past,  243. 
Basha's  palace  at  Fez,  137. 
Mequinez,    Moorish    palace,    241- 

244. 
Sultan's  at  Fez,  13. 
Tangier,  Basha's  palace,  55. 


Penal  Settlement,  Ceuta,  1 1. 
Petitions,  manner  of  making,  70. 
Photography: 

Bogari,  261-270. 
Fez,  153-155,  167,  180,  182. 
Prince  Abd-el-Aziz,  320-324. 
Rabat,  331-332. 
Picnics,  Fez,  211-213. 
"Picture-Making,"     Mosaic    com- 
mandment prohibiting,  261. 
Pierre  Loti: 

Farewell  to  Moghreb,  336. 
Fez,  arrival  at  house  in,  142. 
Mellah  of  Fez,  description,  199-200 
Morocco,       beauty      of      prairies, 
106-107. 
Pigtails,  of  children,  27-28. 
Pillars  of  Hercules,  13. 
Pirates  and  Corsairs: 
Salli,  300. 

Tangier  landing  incident,  18-19. 
Pork,  Moslem  prejudice  against,  192. 
Portugal: 

Alcazar-el- Kebir,    occupation    and 

loss  of,  80. 
Mehedia,   ruined   Portuguese  city, 
293. 
Postal   Service,    European  stations 

in  Tangier,  34. 
"Powder-play"  manoeuvers  of  Arab 

horseman,  99,  315. 
Prairies,  floral  beauty  of,  106-108. 
Presents    to  Moors,  necessity  and 

character  of,  84. 
Prison,  Tangier,  51-52. 
Protection,  of  rich  men  by  foreign 

powers,  160,  162. 
Proverbs  and  Maxims,  28. 
Rabat,  rah'baht: 

Breakers  on  coast,  334-335. 
Cemeterv     as     camping     ground, 

303-307. 
Embarkation     on     English     ship, 

334-336. 
English  resident's  house,   307-308. 
Ferry  from  Salli,  301. 
Industries,     rug-making,     308-309. 
Jewish  serenade,  307. 
Prince    Mulai's    arrival,    311-330. 
Route    across    territory    of    Beni- 

Hasan,  254. 
Sultan      Mulai-el-Hasan,    caravan 

expected,  304-307. 
Sultan  Yakum  el  Mansur,  builder, 

302. 
Tower  of  Beni-Hasan,  301-302. 
View  from  environs,  304. 
"Winchester  Brothers,"  iii. 
Ram,    sacrifice   on    feast    of   Aid-e' 
Kebir,  46,  51. 


341 


Index  —  Continued 


Red  Hill,  crossing,  76-77. 
Religion,  strictness  of,  45-46,  156. 

See  also  Aid-el- Kebir. 
Rifles: 

Springfield,      used      by      Moorish 

army,  176. 
Winchester  rifles.     See   that   title. 
Roads,  231,  233. 
Robber  Kaids,  ideal  hosts,  259. 
Routes,   from  Fez  to  the  sea,   231. 
Rug-Making,    at     Rabat,    308-309. 
Saintly  Beggars,  of  Tangier,  35-36, 

186,  309. 
Salli : 

Corsairs,  Salli  rovers,  299-300. 
Visit  to,  hostility  of  populace,  299. 
Schools.     See  Fez. 
Shareef  of  Wazzan.     See  Wazzan. 
Slaves: 

European    in    si.xteenth     century, 

249. 
Fez,  187. 
Slawi,  slah'vee,  U.  S.  consular  agent, 
Alcazar-el-Kebir,  visit  to  caravan, 
80,  83. 
Sokos : 

Beni-Hasan,  254,  256. 
Tangier.     See  that  title. 
Sons  of  Hasan.     See  Bent  Hasan. 
Spanish    Life,    of    Moors    prior    to 

1492,  227-228. 
Springfield  Rifles,  used  by  Moorish 

army,  175. 
Storks: 

Fez  stork  house,  294. 
Lovers'  reverence  for,  297. 
Mehedia,  292-293. 
Sultan  of  Morocco.     See  Morocco, 

Sultan  of. 
Sun,  the  country  of  the  setting,  221. 
Suss,  soos,  negro  dancer  in  Tangier, 

34. 
Tabeebas,      medical      mission     and 

school  in  Fez,  178-180. 
Tangier,  tan  jeer' : 

Aid-el-Kebir,    feast    of.     See    that 

title. 
Alms-giving,  24-27. 
Basha  of: 

Aid-el-Kebir,  feast  of,  50. 
Camp,  collection  of  ta.xes,  77. 
Palace  and  harem,  55. 
Batteries,  antiquated,  30-33. 
Beggars : 
Blind,  43. 

Government  alms-giving,  24-27. 
Hatred  of  Christians,  40-41. 
Miserv  in  Tangier,  44. 
Saintly  beggars,  35-36,  186,  309. 
British  occupation,  history,  22-23. 


Cattle  embarkation,  19,  21. 
Changes  wrought  by  foreigners,  24. 
Conjurer  in  Soko,  38,  40. 
Consulate,  U.  S.,  visit  to,  55,  59. 
Continental  Hotel,  24. 
Disowned  by  Sultan,  24. 
Dress  of  people,  36-37. 
Harbor: 

Improvement  of  pier,  22. 
Landing  of  passengers,  17-2?. 
History,  22. 

Hospitality  of  foreigners,  60. 
Impressions  on  arrival,  28-29. 
Jewish   porters  conveying   passen- 
gers to  shore,  21. 
Market.     See     subheading     Soko. 
Missionary    in    the    market-place, 

44-45. 
Passengers,  landing  of,  17-22. 
Prison,  51-52. 

Social    Life,    among    foreign    resi- 
dents, 59. 
Soko: 
Cafe,  34. 
Conjurer,  38-40. 
Crowd,  description  of,  36. 
Market  days,  37. 
Missionary  story,  44. 
Postal    stations,    European,    34. 
Suss  Negro  dancer,  34. 
View    of,    mingling    of    Occidental 
and  Oriental,  30. 
Water-carriers,  29. 
White  City  of  Straits,  30. 
W'omen,  dress  of,  36. 
Tax  Collecting,  78-79. 
Tea  Drinking,  74,  92. 
Bogari,  266. 
Fez,  184,  206-211. 
Tetuan,  hats  made  by  women,  66. 
Tholbas,    tol'  bahs,     Fez     Karueein, 

students,  171. 
Tower  of  Rabat,  301-302. 
Treaty,  negotiated  by  U.  S.  Consul 

Barclay,  56. 
Turkey,    Sultan    of,    ancestry,    88. 
Twazit,  inter-tribal  hostilities,   271- 

291. 
Umbrella,       Scarlet,       insignia    of 

Moorish  majesty,   331. 
University.     See    Fez,     subheading, 

Karueein. 
Veterinary   Surgery,    performed   in 

Morocco,  285. 
Victoria,    Queen,    coach    given    to 

Sultan  of  Morocco,  217. 
Washington,    George,    commission 

to  consul  at  Tangier,  56. 
Water-Carriers,  29. 


342 


Index —  Continued 


W3.77fln  * 

Holy  City  of  Morocco,  87,  89. 
Shareef  of: 

Ancestry,  88-89. 

Character   of    late   Shareef   and 
English  wife,  95,  97. 

Powers,  89. 

Presents,  92. 

Successions,  95. 

Visit  to,  90,  92. 
"Winchester    Brothers,"        pseu- 

don\-m    of     Holmes's    partv    in 

Rabat,  333. 
Winchester  Rifles: 

Admired  by  Moors,  332-333. 
Marksmanship   at    Mehedia,    297- 

298. 


Women  of  Morocco: 

Bazar,    portion    sacred   to   women, 
165. 

Christian     medical     mission     and 
school,  178-180. 

Conventional    expression    of    griej, 
280-281. 

Curiosity,  134-143. 

Haik,  costume,  36,  134-135,  165. 

Housetops  sacred  to  women,  220. 

Photographing,  182-185. 
Yakub  el   Mansur.     See    Morocco, 

Sultan  of. 
Yale  Yell,  Beni-Hasan  tribe  routed, 

101. 
Zimour  Tribe,  hostilities  with  Beni- 
Hasan  tnbe,  271-291. 


343 


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